Papa Wolves
by ThickerThanLove
Summary: A piece I wrote before Super; I really enjoy playing with the idea of the Saiyan fathers, Goku and Vegeta may not be traditional parents but they can be papa wolves just the same. And these wolves are scary.
1. Chapter 1

The small Half-Saiyan was completely convinced that his teacher hated him.

Oh, he'd always suspected it, with the way she would comment, off the cuff, about rich kids being spoiled and having no concept of reality. She always seemed to be stressed for money and unfortunately, that meant any child (or person for that matter) that happened to have more of it than her was subject to her little rants. It was more than just her targeting him for his money though. She just didn't like his personality. Trunks had no problem believing she would fail him if it wouldn't look suspicious. Today though, her vendetta against him was anything but subtle.

He was convinced. She'd gradually been adjusting how often she called him out or put him on the spot and normally, he really could have cared less. He'd just spout off the right answer, she'd grind her teeth and the day would continue.

Today though, that was not an option.

He couldn't think straight and keeping his eyes focused on her as she prattled on about mathematical equations (his ears had tuned out a long time ago) was requiring far too much energy. A small annoying miner had taken up refuge in his skull and was currently chipping away at his brain, right behind his eyes. Any sunlight or fast movement only seemed to encourage the little monster and his stomach was not helping matters.

He couldn't remember ever feeling this kind of nausea before; Dad always said that Saiyans with stomach upset was a scary thing (okay, he had said a 'dangerous' thing) because of how much they depended on it. Heck, Dad had mentioned that a sick Saiyan was a true rarity and one that usually ended in death. That was a pleasant thought because as much as Trunks tried to deny it, logic eventually had pounded in that he was quite sick.

Trunks had never skipped a meal before. Ever. This morning though, he had. He had felt like it was a necessity to keep going! He had never been so turned off by the smell of food. Now though, despite his stomach having created this issue, he felt drained and weak. Was that what Dad had meant? That Saiyans missing meals could be dangerous? That not being able to keep food down was dangerous? That illness added weakness and because of how their bodies worked, his was now going to kill him? His mind ached trying to sort through it and it took quite a bit of willpower not to panic.

His one true consolation that this was not going to kill him, much as his father's stories and his body's current state told him otherwise, was that he knew Goten and Gohan had been sick at least once before and they were fine. Though, he did remember Gohan had said that being sick for a Saiyan or even a Half-Saiyan was a torturous experience.

He could certainly agree with that!

All he wanted to do was close his eyes and drift off.

After the third time Miss Shibia had emphasized that "you might want to pay attention, Mister Briefs," he opted to give in. Folding his arms, he buried his face into them and let himself drift. Sleep had never felt so good. It eased the pain in his head to an ache and stopped some of the churning in his belly. It was hardly comfortable but it was an improvement. He pondered if Goten was feeling this bad.

He'd spied his friend on the way in and he'd looked worse than he felt and the kid had only managed "Big Brother Gohan is worse." ChiChi must have been distracted and Goku out training when they left because Trunks knew all too well that neither of the Sons would have let their kids go to school looking like that.

Though, Goten said that he and Gohan didn't like to admit when they felt bad so maybe they were better at hiding it than he thought. It must have been something that they'd caught when they were all together last week. Otherwise, what were the chances of all three Half-Saiyans getting sick at once? If it was anything else, there woulda been reports of humans dropping dead because if it was enough to get a Half Saiyan sick, it was enough to kill a human.

Maybe venturing into that old abandoned temple hadn't been the best idea but heck, even Gohan had been interested! It was a given that if Gohan was okay with something, they likely would not get in trouble for it. Though, maybe some of that old dust, mold and who knew what else had been infected with something. It was sure beginning to look like it, from a rational standpoint. Gohan and Goten had seemed nervous by the end and they'd universally decided that this wasn't something they needed to tell their parents. If how he was feeling was any indication though...maybe that hadn't been such a good idea.

What if he had seen his parents that morning? Well, at least if he'd seen his mother, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be here but Mom had left early to go to some conference and Dad always vanished into the gravity room so there's been no one to question him this morning. Grandma was always a bit oblivious. He almost wished Mom had been there because then he could be in his bed at home—

A sharp pain in his neck made him jump up, cursing as the sudden movement had awakened the miner in his head. He hissed through his teeth, grabbed his temples and squeezed, willing the horrible pain and throbbing to cease. The pain in his neck dulled quickly. He would not have normally felt it if he had been more alert. Man, Dad would have hounded on him for that. Lettin' down his guard...

"So glad that you could rejoin us Mister Briefs." God, her voice was grating. "Perhaps you can summarize the equations we just discussed for the class." The ruler she slapped against her hand echoed like a cannon fire. He so wanted to just snag it and snap it in half. He could only imagine his mother's response to that. So, instead, he opted to lock eyes with her, as best he could with his throbbing head.

"You're the teacher, you do it." He snapped. "I'm not the one gettin' paid." He closed his eyes tightly. Yes, it was much better to have your eyes closed.

"Mister Briefs," she spoke firmly, eyes narrowed and voice even more annoying if that were possible. "I have just about had enough of this attitude—"

"Help yourself, there's plenty more." Trunks snarled, eyes snapping open and it took most of his willpower NOT to let them burn green and give her a heart attack. Plus, he swore the room was swaying. Could this lady not take a hint? The desire to turn Super Saiyan if only to scare her was so tempting but according to Gohan, if you didn't feel good, turning Super Saiyan would just make it worse. "I just wanna go home! I don't FEEL good, you crazy lady!" There, that explanation definitely made it NOT whining. He was the son of Vegeta and as such, he did not whine. Though, he really didn't know how thick this woman's head had to be to not see the obvious.

Eye twitching, the teacher resisted the urge to yank him up by the arm. If she had thought she would have been able to get away with it, she would have. However, she could not afford to have the wrath of the mother of Capsule Corp charging down on her. Despite her emotions, she had to remain professional and despite how much this boy SO needed a good swat, she instead hardened her voice. "Well, you are not going to disrupt my class-"

"So call my mom!" Trunks hissed. Disrupt her class? She was doing all the disrupting! All he'd said was that he didn't feel good! Well, okay, maybe he got a little snippy but she started it! He tried, once more, to get through to her thick skull. "Trust me, I don't want to be here either. I told ya I don't feel good!"

"I have a hard time believing that but this disrespect will not be tolerated." She pointed to the wall "Go take a seat,"

"Fine, long as I don't hafta hear you flap your gums anymore—" Trunks stood, dragged his way to the wall and sat down. Yes, it was quite obvious this woman hated him. Wasn't a teacher supposed to help when their kids didn't feel good instead of accusing them of lying? He was sure it was because he was rich. Or because he was Briefs. Or because he didn't take her stupid yapping.

He doubted Goten or Gohan had this problem...

—

Biting her lower lip, Videl refused to relent. "You sure you're okay, Gohan?" Her tone betrayed worry even if she had to keep her voice to a whisper. Daughter of Mister Satan or not, their professor would not tolerate side talking. However, the young man had been off all morning. Heck, Sharpner had elbowed him in the ribs when he started to drift off. That in itself was worthy of a "what the hell?!" Gohan did not sleep during class. Ever.

The Half Saiyan gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile. It wasn't. "Honest, I'm alright, Videl. Little tired, maybe." That was hardly it but it wouldn't do to have her or his friends worried too! There was nothing to be done over feeling ill except to power on through it. He could handle the nausea, even if it was so intense that he felt like he had to clench his throat muscles to keep everything down. He could handle the dizziness even if that just made the nausea worse and he was sure he walked like a drunkard. At least with all the crowds in the hallways, it was not easily noticed, what with everyone bustling back and forth.

She folded her arms "No, you're not. Your accent is slipping." She'd learned after meeting the teen's family that both Mr and Mrs Son had a strong country accent though Mrs Son's was much more pronounced. Gohan had said both he and his brother had been trained to speak properly, in hopes of it getting them career advancement, but Videl had also learned if they were feeling out of sorts, very nervous or frightened or extremely relaxed, their natural speaking tone would bleed through.

Right now, Gohan's "t"s were turning hard, his "g"s were dropping and his words were starting to merge.

Normally, she loved to hear it(it was a surprising turn-on for her) but for Gohan to let that lapse at school...well, that never happened.

As for Gohan, he tried to refocus. If his accent was coming out, he needed to push more energy into paying attention. No point in slacking off. Re-focus! He coached himself. Mind on the moment! After all, he got teased enough just for his intelligence. He didn't need to add his country origin to a list of things that made him stick out and made everyone take note. Plus, he knew his mother wanted them to come across as educated and well-mannered and according to her, their mountain boy accent did the opposite. Normally, it didn't take this much strength to keep his natural tone at bay but right now...

It was hard though. So hard!

Dad had gone out this morning to train before he had to do any farming and Mom had been doing wash after breakfast. As such, especially with them just now returning to school after Majin Buu (and heck, Goten starting at all!) it hardly seemed right to ask to stay home, even if his body was in agony. Goten, despite his young age, had agreed. One less thing for their parents to worry about! They were probably at fault for it anyway. Besides, they could handle a little headache or dizziness. Gohan had just had them both take Nimbus instead of flying that morning.

Being Half Saiyan, Gohan and his brother rarely got sick. Gohan remembered once when he was 3, once when he was 8 and once in the Time Chamber. Goten had gotten a fever as a baby and once when he was five. That was it. Vegeta has said that Saiyan immune systems were ludicrously efficient. It certainly seemed to be the case.

On the downside though, when they did get sick, they got SICK. As it was, Gohan knew he could not stomach a thing and for a Saiyan, that was bad. He'd managed to shovel down a measly three portions this morning. Mom likely would have noticed as Goten was a mirror image but with how late everyone had been running—he and Goten had overslept almost an hour before ChiChi realized and woke them up—it hadn't been addressed readily and they'd run out the door before many inquiries could be made.

"Miss Videl, if we could have quiet, please!"

The sharp tongue of his professor brought him back to the present quickly. Miss Hamilton while quite pleasant normally did have her pet peeves and side talking was one of them. The woman set her eyes on Gohan, "Mr. Son, if you could pick up where I stopped please." Much as she was fond of both Gohan, Videl, Erasa, she was also not one to play favorites. If they had enough time to gossip, they had enough time to participate. "Loud and clear, please."

Gohan froze. He abruptly realized he had been so distracted that he didn't even know what book they were using, let alone where they were! The faint flush started in his cheeks and the longer he was silent, the more the snickering around him grew and that just made his head throb more and his stomach twist like an ocean wave. "M-miss Hamilton, I'm sorry, I'm...not sure where we are."

Folding her arms, she responded "I thought as much. It would do you well to pay more..." she stopped, abruptly, eyed the boy a little more critically. "Gohan, are you alright?" She set her book down and advanced up the stairs towards the collection of teens. "I can see you sweating from down there."

"Fine," Gohan responded, though he was seriously considering admitting otherwise. It was taking all his energy just to keep his stomach at bay! "Honest, 'm fine." He definitely heard himself drop the "I" on his "I'm" and judging by the looks around him, everyone else noticed too! "'M sorry I was'sit payin' 'tention Miss Hamilton."

Oh God...

Dead silence a long moment then it was a girl named Carsa that burst out laughing. It proved contagious and pretty soon, the entire room was full of guffaws. "Nerd-Boy's a hick!" One of them squeaked.

Oh God! Face burning red like a tomato, he covered his eyes. Little slips of his accent had happened before but that was full blown country boy coming out! This was the last thing he needed today. Slamming his head, though lightly (he could hardly afford to replace one) into his desk, he murmured under his breath, "I wanna go home..."

—

"You don't feel good, huh, Goten?"

The small half Saiyan turned from his lunch, which he had only been picking at to be frank, and addressed the young boy in his class, Nomino, who'd made the inquiry. He couldn't exactly say they were friends but he seemed nice enough. He'd shared his lunch with him the other day so that meant he was a great potential friend! You only shared food with people you cared about!

"Not really," Goten admitted. "You want some of my lunch? 'M not gonna eat it but it'd be sad if I hadda throw it away." He pushed the containers over and Nomino accepted but said with innocent interest. Made sense. Goten never gave away his food, mainly because he always needed every speck. However, today, he just wasn't feeling it but it was a crime to throw away Mom's food, according to Daddy.

"You're talking funny, Goten. Kinda like farmers do on TV." Nomino took a bite of the rice dish Goten had. Man, Goten's mama could cook! Maybe it would be fun to go visit him some time. He'd never seen the countryside so it might be fun. His parents were always telling him to make friends so maybe Goten's family would be a fun place to visit!

Goten pouted "Well, Daddy IS a farmer. Mommy and Daddy talk like this all the time." He really didn't want to go into it. He was the son of country folk and so if he wasn't deliberately trying to be proper, he sounded like one. Nothin' wrong with that!

"I mean, you usually talk kinda proper" Nomino smirked "I like it better when you talk this way. You sound more fun." He dropped his smile when Goten lay his head down on the desk. "Why don't you ask Miss Shiyako If she'll call your mom or dad? They'd come pick you up if you don't feel good." Thinking a minute, he said "Or I betcha they'd call your brother out of school if they had to!"

Goten knew they would. He desperately wanted to ask. However, that would just mean MORE work for his parents. Daddy and Mommy always fussed (well, Big Brother said Daddy fussed; he'd not experienced it yet) like a mother hen when he or Gohan were sick. Daddy still had to handle the fields and Gohan was sick too and if they knew he was sick, they'd find out Gohan was sick so there'd be so much work lost and Mommy would get stressed and—

"I'll be okay," Goten forced a smile. His head screamed in protest but all he had to remember was that they had a long weekend coming up. He could rest then. Just remember that!

Nomino frowned. He didn't understand. Goten obviously didn't feel good. Why didn't he want his parents to come get him? Resting in your bed was a ton better than being at school! Plus, he would bet Mrs. Son could make awesome sick food!

While the young boy did not know Goten too well just yet, he was always nice (if a little slow on some projects which was irritating if they were in groups) and it hurt to watch him be in so much pain. He watched him try and maintain but the black haired boy looked so utterly miserable, he was getting sympathy pains!

"Just few mo' hours," Goten coached himself. "Just few mo..."

—-

He would have normally ignored that horrifically bothersome ringing. After all, when he was in the Gravity Room, he liked to cast all other things out. While it was not as satisfying as a good spar with Kakarot or even any of the individuals that possessed Saiyan blood, it was better than nothing. That clown was tied to his field right now, in no small part, because of his wife's insistence. While Vegeta may have teased the other full blooded Saiyan about it, he also knew all too well the persuasion of the human female. It _was_ one reason they had both been drawn to such fiery wives.

Growling lightly, he paused in his routine and slammed his fist into the acceptance panel on the wall before going back to his punches. Of all the days for Bulma to be gone. He had other things to do than deal with phone calls. He would likely just have to tell them that his wife would return their call later. Couldn't an answering service or their damned secretary handle that?

"Excuse me, Mister Briefs?"

Growling, the Saiyan directed his attention to the viewscreen. It took him a minute to recognize that blasted woman that was in charge of educating his son. Truthfully, he always found her to be a bit of an idiot but it had pleased his woman so he didn't intervene. As it was, he never had to become involved. Until now, it seemed. What did this fat harpy want?

"What do you want?" He snapped, diverting his attention back to his training. "Are you not supposed to be educating my brat?"

"That is the reason I am calling, Mister Briefs," the woman went on.

"So, out with it." Vegeta interrupted. Why did everyone on this planet insist on batting around the bush instead of being blunt and direct. "What about my brat?"

Oh, there was a slight twang to her tone now, "I must insist you come and pick him up. He is being completely disrespectful and disruptive and I cannot continue teaching with him here."

Stopping slightly, Vegeta eyed her "You cannot handle an eight year old boy?"

"Your son is of...special caliber." She finally settled on. Oh, she had several things she would have liked to call him but not to his father. It was easy enough to see the resemblance, save the hair color.

"Well, of course he is," Vegeta allowed, with a small hint of pride "With his pedigree." Frustrated again at the interruption, he inquired "Can you not manage him until the end of the school day, woman? I have things to do."

Oh, she looked agitated now. "Mister Briefs-"

"Vegeta," he finally corrected her, though with her brain, he doubted she'd remember it.

"Mister Vegeta," she began again through clenched teeth "Since your wife is unavailable, I must insist you come and pick up Trunks. If you cannot, we will have to contact the authorities on abandonment..."

Oh, his eyes flashed at her and for a moment, the faint aqua lit up "Is that a threat?" Was this stupid female seriously saying they would remove his son? "Think carefully before you answer."

After an awkward silence, she replied "It is our policy, Mister Vegeta. Again, I insist you come remove your disruptive child."

Groaning and slamming his hand into the wall, he shut off the machine "If it will get you to leave me be, fine, woman. Tell the brat he best prepare himself. He'll know what that means."

"Very good," came the satisfied answer.

—

Trunks wanted to punch her out. He really did. Oh, it would have been SO easy too! Would almost be worth the backlash.

Oh, how smug she was when she trotted over and announced his father was coming. "I will insist on having a word with him about your behavior." She cooed in that fake-sweet tone.

"Good luck." He remarked. His father wouldn't even give her the time of day. It was a miracle that he'd agreed to come in the first place. Trunks would be lying to himself if he had said he wasn't nervous. His father would have been doing his morning training, which meant he had to leave the gravity room and "interact with these damned fools" so he would be angry.

Swell. Just what he needed right now. His father never got involved with his schooling so to force him into it was a horrible idea! He's probably throw him in the gravity room for hours...if he didn't physically punish him first.

Yeah, that had happened before and no, he did not care to revisit it.

All the same, he managed a light smile when he heard the door slam open, even if the sound made his head hurt more. The shocked yelp from the room was ridiculously satisfying. He heard his teacher rush over but he was in no hurry to open his eyes.

"Mister Vegeta.." Yep, her voice was quaking. Good! Let her be powerless for a bit. Bitch...

"Where's my brat?" came that familiar thundering tone.

—-

Vegeta was fully ready to lay into his son right there but then as he took a step into the room, ignoring the other sniveling brats, his sharp nose caught it. The scent of elevated sweat production, the smell of lack of ATP in blood, the smell of heightened body temperature. His eyes swirled the room before settling on his son, laying against the wall. The boy's hair was plastered to his forehead, his face pale and his eyes closed.

"Trunks. Look at me, boy." There was no room for argument in that tone and this time, there was an urgency he'd never expressed before.

Gradually, the child opened his eyes and those bright blues were clouded and glassy. Child could probably see fine but there was no denying the misery in that gaze.

It was an odd feeling that settled over Vegeta's heart. He remembered seeing Saiyan children his age with that look one day and then seeing their bodies tossed onto a fire less a week later when their immune systems proved far too insufficient to expel it. Contrary to popular belief, sickness was not considered weakness among Saiyans. It was considered dangerous.

The possibility of having to burn his only child passed his consciousness, though only briefly. No, it was an unacceptable outcome! They would work quickly and dispose of this molecular invader! It was from Earth so surely they could handle it! Time was of utmost importance!

His strides increased and he made his way to his child, ignoring the large woman's yapping and attempts to gain his attention. Trunks went to stand, as best he could with the room in a permanent tilt-a-whirl and the Saiyan Prince had to allow a half smirk at his determination.

When Vegeta grasped the swaying boy's arm, he pulled him up and continued pulling until he settled the boy in his arms, shifting to support his weight as minimal as it was.

Trunks' eyes went huge for a moment but he was still. Taking advantage of it, the Saiyan prince pressed his forehead against his son's, finding it to be blazing hot. "Foolish cub." He stated, ignoring that he had never referred to Trunks by the Saiyan term for child before. Maybe that had something to do with his son's stunned expression. In any event, it just lasted a moment

Instead, he diverted his attention to the yelping female, still going on about something and interrupted "Are you as blind as you are stupid, woman?"

Gasps about the class but Trunks gave a small smile and lay his head on his father's shoulder. Despite obviously having been training the skin felt cool on his face and there was something about his scent that soothed some of his aches. Plus, since when did his father carry him?! He was going to take full advantage!

"M-mister Vegeta—" The teacher began but the Saiyan interrupted her.

"I can SMELL the illness on him!" Vegeta took a step closer to her. "I should have been informed immediately upon his arrival, you insolent cow!" He tightened his grip on his son subconsciously "Illness is NOT to be trifled with and you have cost us precious, potentially vital, time!" He spat, hitting her directly in the face "If you cannot tell illness from behavior, you have no business teaching my heir!"

Turning on his heels, Vegeta scooped up his son's backpack with his free hand, before heading for the door. Trunks glanced over his father's shoulder at the stunned woman and lifted the middle finger on both his hands to her.

Scoffing, she mumbled to herself, as she took a tissue to clean her face. "He obviously takes after his father."

Vegeta pauses just briefly, gave the woman a bird of his own and remarked "Damn right, he does."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Alarm

Eyes narrowed and voice just as cutting, Videl reached across the way, clasped Gohan's wrist and set him with a look that would wither most. It was a glare that would have made the Son family matriarch proud.

"Gohan, will you stop it and just ask the office to call your parents?"

The teen gave her a look of utter betrayal, as much as he could in any event, but his flushed face did not do much to make him look intimidating. Everyone in Gohan's group of martial artists had told her that he could have a look that would shoot utter fear into your heart but so far, she had seen nothing from him beyond the look of a beaten puppy.

The glassiness to his eyes and redness to his skin just only succeeded to make him look less a martial artist that could bend steel just by looking at it and more water logged pup that had spent the last few weeks in the woods. All the same, he challenged her accusation with a rather whiney "I appreciate it, Videl but I'm—"

"Son Gohan, if you say 'I'm fine' I will punch you."

"Just hurt y'er hand." He answered simply. It was the truth too. Whether he wanted to or not, her human strength would cave on his half-Saiyan skin and muscles. The half stunned look to her face was almost worth it.

Almost.

"Gohan, you told me that your family honors truth, honesty above almost everything else." Her tone was hard but not harsh. She just kept her eyes on his, searching them with that deep, unbreakable dedication that he had learned was part of her, "So, stop lying to me."

The teen considered an alternative, though just for a moment. He was rational, probably the most rational out of all his family, and he knew that if he persisted, Videl wouldn't let up. As it was, he was only nibbling at the rice from his lunch, as Videl, Erasa and Sharpner gathered around him like he was made of glass.

He only had eyes for Videl though.

"It's not that simple, Videl."

Erasa chimed in, "What's so complicated? You're not eating, you're red as an apple and if Sharpner has to wake you up again, it's going to start costing you manga!"

The blond haired boy scoffed, "Should be making a tab now" but there was concern hidden in those eyes. While he had to admit that finding out about Gohan's ability at the tournament had been weird, it had made him look past jealousy. Once that vision was gone, he had found that Gohan was actually quite a fun guy to be around. He still didn't know a lot about him but the more he learned, the more he liked him.

Though, he was certain that any sport team would kill to have him as a member and Gohan refused, stating it was 'unfair.'

This Gohan though, this looked nothing like the teen that Sharpner had grown accustomed to. Granted, he knew that Gohan could be timid and especially had a bad habit of being people-pleasing (especially with women he had noted) but there was always a sense of strength to him that Sharpner had never really been able to pinpoint.

Almost all of that was gone now and despite the obviousness of it, Gohan was proving to have a head the thickness of a metal ship.

Erasa leaned over, "C'mon Gohan, everyone gets sick."

"I don't." He said simply. "Not like you guys do."

Videl eyed him and while she didn't ask it, she figured it had something to do with his half Saiyan side. So far, he had only told her a little bit of it and frankly, it irritated her how little she knew about it. She could see, she supposed, the reason for the secrecy but…

"But you still get sick some." Videl countered his argument. "I know you do. You have to." The softness of her voice betrayed the concern and Erasa raised her eyebrows in silent comment.

Videl ignored it.

"Not like you do." Gohan said again.

Eyes contorted in frustration, Videl hissed lightly, "Look, being sick isn't something to be ashamed of or—"

"Being sick isn't something we can always afford, Videl." Gohan finally told her, harshness to his voice. "Mom and Dad are preparing to do planting. Mom works on getting the seeds and everything and Dad readies the fields. My brother and I prepare irrigation and fertilizer and all that. If Goten and I are sick—"

"—Your brother is sick too?"

"—Then, we can't help and we NEED that farming."

The group went quiet again, save for Videl's nails tapping on the table. She had that dark look in her eyes, that look that was an outward sign of her mind working overtime. Sure enough, right before the silence turned awkward, she reached over, plucked a small container from Gohan's side of the table and cracked it open. The smell of ramen, egg, vegetables and more spices than one ever dreamed could properly work together wafted up, nearly making Sharpner drool on contact.

Slamming the dish down in front of the teen, Videl commanded. "This one dish. It's small, barely a snack to you—I've seen how you eat—finish that and I'll drop everything. We won't say another word about it. If you don't, I'll call your parents myself."

Eyes full of pressured alarm, Gohan demanded, "You can—"

"_I'm_ the one that gave your parents the cell phones, remember?" She folded her arms, quite pleased with herself, "You really think I don't know the numbers I gave them? Besides, if this isn't a big deal, like you say, this is an easy test, don't you think?"

Sharpner intervened, almost salivating on the spot at the mere sight. "Dude, if you don't eat that, I'm going to."

The blond haired boy's threat (and perhaps hope) went unanswered as Gohan and Videl looked one another down. It was like a scene out of an ancient western movie, of two rivals staring each other in the face right before a shoot off.

Ultimately though, faced with the logic and the utter silliness they must have been displaying to anyone paying attention, Gohan caved. He hated that he caved and he was still trying to figure out how he could be caving to a girl that only came up to his chest but that was the same mystery that surrounded his mother and father's relationship so he assumed it would never be solved.

He felt bad though. Looking down at his mother's hard work, his stomach twisted and screamed at the smell of it. He, as well as Goten, had inherited their father's strong sense of smell ("nose like a dog" Krillin often said) and normally, that was a tremendous blessing. It made all food, literally all food, even better.

But now, the smell was almost enough to send him running.

Videl meant what she said though (she always did) so he took a breath through the nose to settle him as much as he could and lifted a bite. As always, his mother's food always looked amazing and he tried to focus on that.

Not the smell, the look, focus. Focus. Focus.

Into the mouth, chew, swallow…

His stomach contorted, twisted and screamed.

Nope.

He was up, pushed away and slipping into his hyper speed before he could even think about it, knocking Erasa to the ground entirely and leaving a half dozen other students staring after him, his friends included with Videl being a notable exception.

Sharpner looked to Videl who gave him a dark glare, before jerking her head in the wild direction that Gohan had run. There were no words exchanged but there really didn't need to be. That motion was easy enough to figure out. She was telling him to go after him.

Getting to his feet, Sharpner took off after Gohan, making a mental note to ask how he had managed to sprint fast enough that he didn't even really know where he had gone, leaving Erasa and Videl together.

Erasa, after a brief moment, commented "Ho-how did he do that?"

"Training," Videl's answer was clipped as she reached into her phone and started to scan through her numbers. It took her a bit of doing but she finally selected one, labeled 'Goku' and hit send.

Erasa's grin appeared quite suddenly and the depth of it was making Videl uncomfortable. As she waited for a response, she mouthed 'what?'

"You have his parents in your phone and you two still aren't an item?" Her smile said a thousand things without any words.

"…I gave them their phones, that's totally different."

"With his personal name?"

"…drop it, Erasa."

OOO

The atmosphere of Mount Paouz was always fairly serene. The patch of land that ChiChi and Goku had set aside for farming land always had a particular feel to it. Goku both liked and disliked it. The small vegetable garden near the house was so much better than this large plot of land he had to manage for the larger crops.

Leaning back against the tractor, he yawned widely.

This wasn't training and while he was glad that he could spend time outside instead of in an office or some business suit like most other 'jobs,' it simply wasn't fun. He grew bored easily and the first time ChiChi saw him farming with his hands, she about had a fit.

He didn't know why. He got more done and it was a lot faster but she said something about it being 'not proper.'

Well, he did admit it tended to make him dirty but it was just earth. And there was that large lake nearby that he could clean up in without her being the wiser.

Looking out over the land before him, he considered doing that again. After all, ChiChi had said that if they had the fields ready for planting early, he could take off to do some training before the boys came home.

That sounded good to him!

Grinning, sleeves rolled up, Goku gave himself a mental start and was off.

The soil and rock against his fingers always felt good and the overturned earth he left behind was nearly flawless. Row after row, he went, churning through the yards and yards of field about three times as fast as that ol' tractor could!

They could plant just about anything in here!

Stopping, standing up, dusting off his hands a bit, Goku surveyed the field when an odd tingling made his left leg vibrate. He blinked, looked around for an energy attack, an animal and then realized it was that phone.

Videl had gifted some to their whole family, upon which ChiChi had all but passed out, but Goku had never seen the appeal of the odd things. He could find his wife and kids without a phone call but ChiChi insisted that the schools and buyers of their crops needed something tangible. So, he just agreed and said he'd keep it on him.

First time he'd ever gotten a call though. Most people still used the house phone or called ChiChi.

Fumbling a little, he finally pulled it out and pressed that small green button before answering "Hey!"

"Mr. Son?"

Oh, he knew that voice! "Oh, hi Videl! I tol' ya that you can call me Goku!"

"…right. Sorry….Goku, I think you need to come and get Gohan."

All light flooded out of Goku's face. "Gohan? Is something wrong?"

"I think he's sick but he's being stubborn as…well, he's being stubborn."

"What makes you think he's sick?" Goku had stopped walking the field and leaned against the nearby boulder cliffs, one hand to the phone and one tapping so nervously on the stone that it was leaving indents.

"He's all flushed in the face, he keeps falling asleep, his accent is out full force and he's not eating."

Goku's heart froze, turned to ice in his chest. Both his children were strong, stronger than even he could believe at times but Saiyans and that included half-Saiyans lived by their stomachs. He couldn't remember his boys ever refusing a meal.

"Not eatin'?"

"He just ran off, I think he's throwing up. I sent Sharpner after—"

The phone went dead when Goku focused his ki and realized he could not sense his son's. It was low. Too low to get a bead on.

Videl was the next best thing.

Fingers to the forehead and he was gone.

OOO

Erasa fell to the ground for a second time when the air by Videl suddenly pulsed and there was a tall man suddenly standing there. She gave a little shriek as she fell but Videl, while jumping a little, didn't seem surprised at all. She just clicked her phone, put it in her pocket and stood.

"Erasa, relax, it's Gohan's dad."

Said man, clothed in a dirty undershirt, black slacks and a simple white scarf around the neck, turned to the fallen girl and said, "Oh, hi! I'm Goku!" He took hold of her wrist between his finger and thumb and pulled her to her feet.

Videl let Erasa gather herself then said, "Sharpner went to get Gohan, he took off running when he tried to eat."

"What was he eatin'?"

"Your wife's ramen."

"But her ramen's amazing!" Goku announced, a slight hurtness to the tone. "Gohan always loves it!"

Videl nodded "We were drooling just smelling it. But Gohan couldn't even take a bite of it before he was rushing off. Throwing up, I'd guess."

Goku frowned, looked over the spread before him as Videl waved away the curious onlookers. "He hasn't touched any of this?"

"Not more than a few nibbles at a time." Erasa finally felt comfortable enough to answer. "He's been acting weird all day and all flushed and frazzled."

Eyeing the two girls, Goku inquired, "Where did Gohan head off to?"

Videl offered a direction. "Nearest boys' rooms are that way. We can show you."

Nodding, the Saiyan father fell in step behind the two girls, leaving an utterly baffled collection of students in their wake.

"Gohan, you sound horrible."

"Thanks." The gurgely sound from inside the stall had just a pinch of sarcasm. "Always one for compliments, aren't you?" His voice caught in his throat and he cursed his stomach to stop its convulsing. "You don't have to hang out in here you know…"

Leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, Sharpner remarked, "Hey, I'm not the one emptying my guts and saying there's nothing wrong."

Maybe it had gotten to the point where denying it was a bit pointless but Gohan couldn't see another response. If he did admit he was sick, then that meant his parents had to put their farming aside and that meant money that they could not afford to lose.

"I'm fine…" There is was again, that utter denial against all form of logic. He had to cling to that. With all his strength, he had to cling to it. The same way he was digging his hands into the porcelain of the nearby toilet, he had to…

"Gohan!"

That tone was sharper than Sharpner ever recalled hearing, from anyone, and it certainly had a desired effect. He jumped to attention himself as the door swung open and a man looking like he stepped right off a farm walked in, eyes darting to and fro.

Gohan, for his credit, paused in his heaving and forced himself to stand. It couldn't be—

"Gohan! Where are you?"

"D-dad?"

Slowly, he gathered his breath and pushed open the door to the stall, stumbling back into the main room, Sharpner moving to lend him a shoulder. Eyes rounded and more than a little glassy, Gohan looked more like a five year old than a nearly grown man at that moment. He blinked once, then twice, as if trying to convince himself that yes, that was truly his father standing there.

Videl had said she would…

"Dad." He finally found his voice, trying to swallow the lingering bile and tried to stand upright though he suspected that he was still slightly hunched, bent and unsure. The look Goku had on his face was not one that they saw very often. "Wh..what are you doing here?"

"You didn't tell me that you didn't feel good, Gohan." There was hurt in that tone and that was a thousand times worse than any lecturing or yelling he could have done. All the boys in the Son family had a wounded puppy dog look but only Goku had truly perfected it. "I thought you tol' me that stuff."

Wincing, and quite visibly, Gohan retorted, "Dad, I…Goten and I thought that we would be making things harder for you and Mom—"

"Goten too?"

Cursing at himself, Gohan tried again, "Well, we…I mean, yeah, we didn't feel great but it's okay, it's okay. We have a long weekend and …"

It probably should have embarrassed him when Goku set a hand on his forehead, but Gohan couldn't find himself with the energy to care. His father's hand always had an odd texture to it—hard, rough and hard as stone during a spar but if you were hurting, it went soft and gentle.

That and compared to his skin, it was cool and felt oh-so-good.

"Gohan, you got a fire on your skin!" Here, Goku turned his voice hard, like that commanding tone when he'd first called his son's name. "Don't you lie to me about it either."

No point now. Among his friends, it had been easy to continue lying to himself but now, with his father already here, well, he was a bit ashamed how easy it was to slip back into being a little boy. His father had that effect on people and especially since this was the first time since Goku had come back that he had been sick.

The realization slammed into Gohan like a ton of bricks and it almost took the air out of his lungs.

The past seven years, any injury was tended by him or his mother. Any illness, rare as they were, was something he had to handle on his own. He could not afford to want to the comfort, the reparation. Mom needed help, Goten needed the help. It was a luxury that he simply could not have.

Now, his father stand in front of him, fresh off the field, but just as alert as he had always been, was a sharp reminder that things did not have to be that way anymore.

He didn't have to be the strong one anymore.

He didn't have to be…

"…yeah, I don't feel good."

Pulling him into a tight embrace, Goku advised "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Without waiting, he swung Gohan around, lifting him onto his back like he was only five years old. Gohan felt his face color, deeper than it had been with the fever but much like his hand, the skin of his father's neck and the tickling strands of his hair on the face and neck simply felt too good to pass up.

He settled for hiding his face into the dark tresses and pretending that none of this was happening. Maybe sleep would force it away and he'd wake up at home. It was easy to pretend that way and he was grateful that SHarpner didn't say anything, just opened the door for them as they headed outside into the main courtyard where Erasa and Videl were waiting.

"Thanks, Videl! I'll take care of 'em, don't worry."

Stumbling up, the dark haired girl advised, "Goku, you can't just disappear with him."

Genuine bafflement greeted her, "Why not? He's my son. I can pull him outta school if I want to."

"Yeah but you have to tell the office," Erasa stood up. "Otherwise, they'll worry where he went."

"Oh." Goku adjusted Gohan on his back and asked "Where do I do that?"

Videl moved to walk by his side, "Here, I'll help." She chanced a look at Gohan a moment, bit her lip and said, "We'll make it quick."

"…thank you, Videl." Goku's tone was genuine. There was a maturity in that simple statement that was impossible Videl to ignore and as much as Goku appeared the goofy, laid back parent that you only saw in books or movies, when she looked at him now, all that was gone. Gohan had told her that his father had many faces and that while the smiling, laughing one that she had met at the World Martial Arts' Tournament was one, it was only one of the many facets his father possessed. She could see that, reflected in those dark eyes. There was only concern, deep devotion and a love that made Gohan's behavior around the anniversary of the Cell Games completely justifiable.

When Gohan groaned lightly as they made their way to the office, Goku lifted one hand and rested it in his hair, whispered something up to his son that Videl could not catch and for a moment, leaned back and let his forehead touch Gohan's.

So, this was the father Gohan had missed so much.

OOO

"Goten."

Jerking about and cursing himself for it, the black haired boy addressed his teacher as politely as he could manage, "Yes, Ma'am?" Mom had always said that Ma'am was always acceptable and it usually made women happy and said he had good manners.

Kneeling down, the woman gently lay a hand on his head, "Goten, I really wish you had told me that you didn't feel good."

Blinking and muscles tensing, Goten accused "Wh-who told you that I didn't feel good?"

"Your father and brother are here to get you." She provided as answer, with a touch of bewilderment. "Took us all by surprise actually."

"Daddy and Big Brother are here?"

"Right here, little buddy." The voice that called into the room was both welcomed and not welcomed, all at once. What about helping Mom and Dad? What about what Gohan had said, about them needing to help with the planting and readiness and…

For a moment, Goten shifted his eyes to meet Gohan's. They were utterly wiped but he gave a simple nod to his sibling.

Seeing his father standing there in the doorway, Gohan hung on his back like a sack and the warmth and concern peering out of the older man's eyes, all Goten's concerns fled away and he was suddenly rushing forward until his arms were around his father's knees. "Daddy!"

Kneeling, shifting so that he only held Gohan with one arm, Goku scooped Goten up in his other, where the boy swiftly wrapped his arms around his father's neck. As he had done with Gohan, he rested his skin on Goten's.

"You too, little buddy?" Goku shook his head, "You two needa talk to me!" He laughed, a rumbling laugh but he felt none of it. When Gohan had been little, they had dealt with one sickness and then he had dealt with an illness in the time chamber but there was a reason that his boys with fever and no stomachs to speak of worried him.

Gohan had almost died both times he got ill. Goku had been ready to rush him out of the time chamber when the fever finally snapped. They had called in three doctors when Gohan had been little and Goku had completely stripped the countryside of any herbal remedies he knew of. It had worked but it had been a narrow victory.

Goten, as far as Goku knew, had never been ill.

And none of the illnesses that Gohan had ever had went and stripped his appetite. From the simple limpness of Goten's grip and the quivering of his ki, he knew that he wasn't eating. Once he'd learned about it from Videl about Gohan, it became easy to feel it.

"Not eating either, Goten?"

Head down a bit, Goten shook his head back and forth. "Don't wanna."

Same attitude that Gohan had. "Well, we'll just have your mom make something easy, okay?"

"Nothing." Goten said again. "Water. Nothin' else."

If they didn't eat, they'd die. Goku knew that, plain as day. Vegeta had tol' him a little about Saiyans once they reached a truce after Buu. Saiyans relied on food which was why they loved it so much. A human could survive maybe a month without food. A Saiyan was significantly less because of how much they needed for their muscles and fighting. Maybe his kids being half would help but…

Ignoring the dark icy fear that settled over his heart, Goku neglected to answer, tightened his grip on both his children, focused on his wife's ki and was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Symptomology

Bulma ran.

It was an odd sight to see from her. As flustered and angry as she could get, she usually maintained herself when she was in meetings or making deals with clients or participating in conferences. It simply came with the territory and while she had no problem telling off someone that was being sexist or ridiculous, she could hold her tongue on most other issues.

Not on this.

It had been sudden, a buzzing in her pocket and that in itself was a surprise because outside of her workers, next to no one called her, especially if they knew she was in a meeting. They'd felt her wrath enough times before to know when to stop pressing their luck.

It hadn't been a call though. It had been a text. Simple, straightforward.

From Vegeta.

No batting around the bush, as was his way and she counted herself lucky that he had not opted to simply barge into the meeting room and drag her out. That would not have been beyond his traits but the fact that he _didn't_ was perhaps more alarming than if he had.

It had said, plainly, _Come Home, Bulma._

Nothing else. Nothing else needed to be sent for her to announce right then that she had to go and she would follow up with them at a later date.

Vegeta used her name.

He never used her name. Not to her, not unless it was something vital, something important, something that could not be ignored. She had grown accustomed to his harshness and how somehow 'woman' had turned into affection.

So, when he used her name, she knew something was wrong.

Even now, as she plowed through Capsule Corp, aiming for the family quarters, her mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. She threw her purse down as soon as she entered the main living quarters and kicked her computer to the side.

"Vegeta!"

Almost as soon as she had let his name leave her lips, she was rushing down the corridors and she heard an odd sound. Well, odd in that she really wasn't sure what it was at first. It was a distinctly familiar voice but beyond that, she didn't know what to think of it.

Slipping down and pausing just outside of her son's room, she let the doors open and made her way inside. Had the scene she saw not bring a surge of panic into her heart, she would have melted.

Trunks was home, lying on his stomach, half curled into a fetal position. Sheets kicked to the floor. In just his underwear. Sweat had all but taken over his face and that face was a lovely shade of bright red. Far redder than she ever recalled it being.

Sitting right next to him was Vegeta, seemingly focused and with a hand on the boy's head. She couldn't remember him ever doing that. Even after the defeat of Buu, and with Vegeta's declaration to be…well, better than he was before though he did not go into detail about what that meant, she was stunned dumb.

He looked…worried.

He never looked worried.

No, not worried…no, this was…

Vegeta was afraid.

She didn't know what to do.

Vegeta was never afraid. Ever. Angry, frustrated, disturbed but never afraid. He never told her a lot of his past but she knew he had been in the midst of a war since he was younger than Goten.

He'd destroyed entire worlds, fought Freeza, Cell, Buu…

Why was he afraid? What could prompt that from him?

"Vegeta?" She stepped forward, headed for her son and fell to her knees next to the bed, resting a hand on her son's head, amid that sweaty hair. After a pause, she realized that Vegeta while not talking to her was still talking to Trunks. Not in their language though.

Vegeta, despite his insistence on the importance of his heritage, rarely spoke in his native tongue. Bulma was a bit appreciative of it because she never understood him when he slipped into the Saiyan tongue but there were a few words that she had picked up and as she stopped, listened, she recognized it:

"_Insela_" Vegeta was saying, over and over. "_Insela, enka, insela_."

Insela was a command though whether it meant rest, heal or sleep, she had never been able to figure out. Enka was new. She had never heard that word before. Sitting and shifting to her knees, she lay a hand out to brush her son's face.

Red hotness almost burned her hand and she demanded, "Vegeta, was he like this morning?!"

The Saiyan Prince finally shifted to look at her. "Not this bad, as near as I can tell, Woman. I didn't see him this morning."

Of course he didn't, probably ran right into that gravity room and-"Wonderful. Well, no problem."

"It _is_ a problem Bulma."

There it was. He was using her name again and despite her willingness to normally tell him exactly what she thought, she went quiet at it. "Vegeta?"

"Tell me." His voice was steady, even keel. "Has the boy ever been sick?"

Bulma bit down her first impulse to state if he had been around, he would have known (seemed pointless now) and she fought the urge to respond 'of course' because the question itself made her think. Of course, most of the time, she considered that a silly question because of course all kids got sick but as she stared at Trunks and considered the inquiry…

"There was…"

No, no, that had been her. She'd gotten the flu and it had been Trunks, young as he was, bringing her water, soups, with his wide eyes, curious at why she couldn't get up and play. Yet, as close as he was, he never got it himself. Didn't even seem to understand it.

No. She couldn't recall. Not a cold, not the flu. Not even allergies, nothing.

"…no. No, he's never been sick."

"It's his Saiyan genes." Vegeta said simply, his eyes still not leaving the boy who was currently trembling under the touch of his father. Not from fear but simply from fever alone. "We are built for war, for strife. It would not do to crumble under every illness that came our way. Our bodies are well oiled machines that strike down every invasion like an army."

Bulma nodded, silently. Her thoughts raced, thought, pondered. "That's why it took the heart virus to take down Goku. It was new, it was—"

"Likely alien or made for him." Vegeta remarked. "I refuse to believe that a virus capable of toppling a Saiyan was not hand-made for that purpose. Gero was conniving enough."

Bulma didn't remark. It was possible but it seemed a moot point. "I'll call in our doctor."

Vegeta eyed her. He didn't much trust human doctors but he had no experience with medical care, aside from the necessary knowledge of how not to bleed out. Illness and sickness were utterly out of his realm.

"Which one do you intend to call, you humans have doctors for everything." The quickness of his reply betrayed the worry that he tried oh-so-hard to cover with irritation and frustration. Bulma, as always, saw right through it.

"I think a basic care…" She stopped because that was a legitimately good question. A regular pediatrician was not who to call, even if they would be first on her list for a flu or the cold. This was not any of those things, that much was sure. Vegeta was right. None of those ailments had struck her son—their son—down before. It had to be something else, something deeper, worse.

Who DID you call for this kind of thing?

"Do you have doctors that are knowledgably competent on unknown illnesses or epidemics?" The Saiyan kept his voice even keel, as he had been struggling to do since he got the boy home.

"He isn't eating, Bulma."

He felt that there wasn't much else he could say beyond that which could accurately express how lethal this was. How lethal it could be. He cursed his lack of knowledge of biological systems. He cursed the lack of Saiyan experienced physicians and he cursed whatever miniscule organism had put his heir in such a state.

His son.

Bulma half paused. Vegeta still wasn't looking at her and in between their conversation, he would whisper again "_Insela, enka_" in such firm, fierce determination that it was nearly a chant. The blue haired women frowned in thought to his inquiry but it was not a bad thought. "Not official titles but there is the Unknown Disease Network. All over the globe, all kinds of doctors that study just about everything. Has about 500 doctors I think—"

"We've the money; call them all."

A Saiyan that did not eat was a dead Saiyan.

OOOO

Pushing the door open with her foot, ChiChi slipped her way into the room. It was dark, the shades drawn and the two forms slumped on the futons barely stirred at her entrance. That in itself made her heart hurt. She had never known her two boys to refuse to arise immediately at the smell of food.

"Goten? Gohan?" She called out, approaching and setting the tray laden with mugs and bowls on the nearby nightstand. "It's Mama. Can you wake up and eat some for me?" Maybe she should have been a bit more stern, more demanding as she could be whenever playing her role as nutritionist of the home (a role she shared in equal power with Goku) but as firm and unyielding as she could be, seeing her children sleeping with flushed faces and sweaty brows always made her hard face melt.

The steaming kuzuyu mugs were never exactly appetizing but she had taken precautions to add fish to the okayu in hopes of prompting some of their appetites. Her sons routinely loved her okayu and the rice porridge always went down a little easier with some fish to make the little flavor pop. Not much to be done to doctor up kuzuyu but a little hot tea with honey afterward could wash out most of the taste from the tongue.

Her boys barely stirred. She turned on one of the side lamps, not feeling like it would be appropriate to attack the overhead light. When Goku had told her about Gohan getting sick in the time chamber, he'd been quick to report that anything that jolted the senses seemed to drive home buckets of pain and if Goten was anything like his brother, she wanted to avoid that. "Gohan? Goten?"

A low moan finally answered her and the largest of the lumps half turned and opened one eye at her. He didn't say anything for a moment, his sights just shifting around and she saw his nose twitching. The sharp Saiyan nose was something both her boys had inherited from their father and it was no secret that nothing escaped the Saiyan nose. He knew what she brought with her.

"No, thanks, Mom."

Setting her eyes and her voice, ChiChi retorted, "None of that. You and Goten barely ate anything yesterday and bein' sick means you need food! I know I don't need to tell you about that, Gohan!"

Her eldest son closed his eyes, as if the act of talk had wiped him out entirely. "Mom, I know but…not yet."

Wringing her hands a little on her apron, the Son family matriarch was not having any of this! "Son Gohan, I know your stomach doesn't feel good. Your father is working on that but if you two are going to have ANY chance of gettin' better, you need to eat. I know Goten will at least try to eat if you do."

"Nu uh." Came the low protest from the smaller form, still huddled under the blankets as if hording off an incoming blizzard. "No food, Mommy."

ChiChi hissed under her breath "Now, don't you be backtalking me too!"

Slowly, a sweaty head with black hair matted down onto the brow emerged from the tunnel of blankets, with wide eyes that very much resembled a broken mole, looking for mercy from the jungle cat that had invaded its den. "Sorry, Mommy. But no food, please." The slight high pitch on the 'please' cut into her heart and she reached out a hand to stroke his face.

"Goten, sweetie, both you and your brother need to eat."

"No good." He argued. "Will throw it up again."

Gritting her teeth some, she inhaled deeply and after a moment exhaled, "You may not. I know sometimes it feels that way but—"

"Will so." Goten interrupted. "Know my stomach. No food." He withdrew, much like an animal back into its hole.

Sitting down on the floor next to the bed, she heaved a big sigh and looked to Gohan who at least had remained outside of the fort of blankets though he looked just as feverish. She considered removing a few of the quilts but given her boys' current disposition, they just might fight her for them and as weakened as not eating had made them, she could hardly overpower them.

"Sorry, Mom."

Blowing her breath upward and stretching up to push her loose black hairs (and no, that was NOT even a touch of grey) back so they didn't tickle her eyes or her nose, she set her eyes on her eldest who still looked upon her with a look almost mirror image for his little brother's pitiful moan.

Sighing, she stood and moved to the side, stepping around Goten's bed to slip next to her eldest's. "Gohan, I'm not trying to harp on you two but…you know as well as I do that you need to eat."

He didn't argue that fact but offered "Water? With fruit or vegetables? Start there?"

She wanted to argue that no, no, that was not good enough, it was not even near good enough but…

"Alright. I'll bring up some water with strawberries and oranges. Can you at least eat the fruit in the water when you're done?"

"I can try." Gohan offered and reached over and gently ruffled where he knew Goten was. "We can both try."

Satisfied with that, ChiChi gave a kiss to her eldest then dipped her head into the tunnel of quilts and did the same for Goten.

She padded her way down the hall, past the kitchen and outside where Goku was working hard at a small iron pot over a burning fire. "They still aren't eatin'." She reported, her body drenched in worry. "Gohan said they'd try some water with fruit but he couldn't even promise me that they could eat the fruit in that." She eyed her husband's back. "It's worryin' me, Goku."

After a moment, stirring the coals a bit, Goku stood and turned to look at her. He wiped his face, leaving a smudge just under his nose and asked her, "They didn't touch the porridge?"

"Weren't even willing to try." ChiChi folded her arms about herself. "And I believe them Goku. I believe them when they say they wouldn't be able to keep nothin' down. I believe them." She trailed off at that, looking to the ground as if a solution might present itself.

Goku set his hands on her shoulders, "ChiChi, lemme get these patches on 'em, bring 'em the water and then we'll go from there, okay? Maybe sucking on an orange is small but it's somethin'."

Nodding against his chest, she laid her forehead there for a moment. "I know. I know. But…they're hurtin' and I can't fix it." Her voice caught. "I can't fix it."

Her husband didn't respond for a moment. "Not yet but we're gonna fix it ChiChi. I dunno how or what we're gonna do but we're gonna fix it."

That said, he pulled away from her suddenly and went back to his iron pot, pulling it off the fire. It smelled horrible, of herbs and water and plants and who knew what else but despite the tears in his eyes that ChiChi knew had been prompted by surrounding himself in such a sharp scent, he simply began to pour the water into smaller buckets and dumped bits of clay and sand and other things into them until they turned into an almost paper mache mess.

Without a word, she went into the kitchen and began to cut up the fruits and mix together the pitcher of water. She spent far more time on it than she probably needed to but she was insistent on adding as much fruit as she could and she would have added in vegetables too if she thought it would make a difference. But she wanted them to try and eat the fruit and Goten would turn his nose up if he spied a cucumber in there and rest assured, he would.

By the time she made her way back up to the room, Goku had beaten her there, his herbal remedy in hand. Both of her sons had been coaxed out of their sheets, dressed down to just their boxers and Goku was currently working on Gohan.

He spoke softly as he worked; trying to ease the sharpness of the smell, reassuring both boys that the smell would fade before too long and that it would ease their fevers. The brownish clay went on in small patches at the neck, the armpits and when Gohan eyed his mother with a red face for a moment, she turned her back so her husband could apply it near the groin. It didn't matter she was the mother, teenage boys would be teenage boys.

Linen wraps kept the mixture pressed hard against the skin and hopefully, the herbal remedies would seep into the blood stream quickly. Goku picked the most opportune places to apply it for that reason. It usually worked pretty quickly at addressing the fevers. She knew he still meant to go searching for an anti-nausea plant that he knew grew over the mountain but she was glad for him being here right now.

As Goku started his same procedure on Goten, who aside from complaining 'it tickles' kept still, ChiChi presented her eldest with the glass of water which she had decorated with cut strawberries, oranges and bits of pineapple.

"Thanks, Mom." He accepted it and gently nursed it. The cold water felt good and even the faint taste of the fruits didn't seem to be rejected. His mother's relieved face was a balm to his spirit, even as he literally felt the herbal effects of his father's remedy start their work.

"Take it slow," she advised. "We'll work through this, you'll see."

As Goku finished up with Goten, Gohan reluctantly plucked a bit of strawberry from the glass and chewed.

The result was nearly instantaneous.

His stomach screeched, protested and pushed with such force out of his mouth that he only managed to get outside the room before water, bile and small, half chewed bits of berry were gushing out of his mouth.

Heaving slow and hard, tears in his eyes from how deeply it made his gut ache, he welcomed the strong hand on his back and fell into the strong grip that he knew anywhere. "It hurts. It hurts so much. Dad, make it stop."

Goku tightened his grip on his son, gently easing back and forth, digging his fingers into the small pressure points to hopefully alleviate the muscle cramping. "Shh, it's okay, little man. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

Yet, even as he spoke the words, Goku wasn't sure he believed them. His sharp nose had caught it and after a moment surveying the floor coated in half digested mess, his eyes caught it.

Flecks of red decorated the wooden panels. Not a lot, just a few here and there. Small droplets, fresh.

But it wasn't strawberry.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Diagnosis is Difficult

"That doesn't make sense!"

The older gentleman adjusted his glasses and swallowed hard. While Bulma Briefs was well known to have a strong personality, it was another thing altogether to be faced with it. He and his partners were always up for a challenge and hearing that the son of the richest family in the world had fallen under mysterious illness was a chance that he was not going to pass up. Yet, the prospect of dealing with a spirited Mama Bear had not been in his plans.

All the same, he was a professional. "I am aware, Miss Briefs. Yet, that is what all our tests are reporting. We have run plasma tests, urine tests and we have sent your son's blood under every blood panel we are aware of. The results are always the same: there is no presence of a virus or even bacteria." He held his hands up in surrender "I…I know that your son is still ill, he still had a fever and-"

"He's not eating!" Bulma all but spat. "He's not eating. I don't think I need to tell you how bad that is!" She stood, leaned over the desk, "So if there's no virus, why is he sick?!"

The man shrank back, just a bit and swallowed. "Miss Briefs…I…we, don't know."

Oddly enough, that simple statement appeared to have drained all the wind from her sails and she all but crumbled into her chair. "You…don't…know." She heaved into her hands a moment and if her reputation was not so well known, the man would have thought her crying. "If you don't know then who does?! Isn't this your passion? Your calling? Didn't you uncover diseases that we had completely forgotten even existed?!"

The man took a deep inhale and nodded, "I did, yes, Miss Briefs. But there is something entirely different about uncovering smallpox and unearthing an illness that does not seem to have a source! Every illness, every disease, every outbreak in our history has had a bacteria, a virus, some kind of foreign agent at its core. Your son possesses none of those."

An odd feeling took her heart and she dug her nails into her palms. "So, that's what the famous Doctor and researcher Netsu has to say? You're giving up?"

The man swallowed and pondered his words carefully. "I have no intention on giving up, Miss Briefs but my hands are tied at the moment. My colleagues and I need more research, more options and more information to work from. Your son has a very…unique genetic make up."

Bulma folded her arms, frowning deeply. "I know he does. There's two more like him in the whole universe, least blood wise." She was secretly glad that Vegeta was working on trying to get Trunks to eat. He would have despised hearing their son compared to the sons of Goku, at least verbally.

Oh, but Doctor Netsu was suddenly sitting right up, light reignited in his eyes and he reached over, grasping Bulma's hands as if she would slip away at any moment. There was a new gaze to his eyes, instead of the utter frustration that he had been carrying the past two days. "Miss Bulma…your son is not unique?"

Oh if her eyes did not fire at that but luckily, the scientist in here gathered his meaning. "I told you…Trunks is half earthling from me and half Saiyan from his father." She set the man with a look. "Don't bother trying to research the Saiyans. You won't find anything—"

"But there are more mixed blood than your son?" The man didn't even seem fazed by the prospect of an alien-earthling hybrid but given he had been studying Trunks' blood for the past few days, it certainly explained so many of the genetic anomalies. "Miss Briefs, if this is true, then that may be our breakthrough." He stood, the chair clattering behind him, "I realize that it is a delicate question to ask but if we might examine similar blood, we could potential pin point a source, a reason. The more genetic material to compare, the better the chances."

An odd feeling took over the blue haired woman. She had no doubt that ChiChi would agree to it but what was she asking? She knew that while Gohan not getting credit for defeating Cell was a sour spot with the Son Family matriarch, Gohan had considered it a bit of blessing so that they were not bombarded by media.

What would happen after this was over with? She and her family were used to being chased with cameras and reporters but the Son Family enjoyed their quiet life in the mountains. Bulma was not naïve enough to think that once the information was gathered that they would suddenly be left alone.

The information they were giving these people was essentially the heart of any good scientist's research. The concept of different species was not a wild one. They had numerous types of them in West City alone even if the more animalistic types tended to keep to the rural ranges. That was an accepted fact.

The things that made Trunks, Gohan and Goten unique were that they were a blend of two different species and not only did they not have any medical problems because of it but they seemed to thrive because of it. The existence of a successful half breed of two species without medical problems and, as far as they could tell, were fertile (though they wouldn't know for certain until the boys married but all the tests that Bulma had run so far appeared to indicate that they were) was a once in a lifetime opportunity. No matter how much this man wanted to do good, Bulma knew…KNEW deep in her bones that his investigation would not end here. It would not stop here.

But…her Trunks…

She met the doctor's eyes, "Let me give her a call."

OOO

"Colder, Daddy."

Goku bit his lip. "Goten, I don't wanna make it any colder. You're already sick. Wouldn't be fun to have a cold on top of everything else would it?"

Said boy shifted from his spot on the stool and looked up at his father with pitiful eyes. They swam with contained tears and his small cheeks were red and inflamed. Sitting half slumped over, he retorted "No but just one more spray Daddy. Please…it's so hot."

He likely shouldn't have given in but Goku couldn't really see the purpose in staying hard on this decision. So, he drew the faucet over and gently shifted the temperature lower and gently sprayed down his youngest son.

Goten immediately arched his head back, closing his eyes as the water danced down his body, giving a faint imitation of relief. He shook, a little and it was hard to tell if it was from the cold or from the fever. Maybe it didn't really matter.

"Okay, that's enough." Setting the handheld showerhead down, Goku pulled a towel from the side and scooped his youngest up, toweling him dry and bundling him up in one motion. He didn't bother with clothes. Goten would strip them off anyway.

Making his way down the hall down to the boys' room, ChiChi was emerging with a small tray laden with a half empty bowl of clear broth. For a moment, though just a brief one, Goku's eyes lit up but when his wife looked to meet his face, her own was distraught. She shook her head.

A half second later, Goku could hear his eldest groaning and then the unmistakable sound of vomiting from the inside room. ChiChi pushed past him without another word, though she did stop briefly to provide a kiss to Goten's cheek. The slight ache in her eyes when she pulled away, astounded by the heat of the flesh, did not go unnoticed.

"I'll help Gohan and get them settled down." Goku broke into her thoughts. "Maybe just some water for now?"

It had just been water for over a day and the weariness in their bodies was already becoming apparent. ChiChi knew it and she knew Goku knew it but he was right. Get the boys to sleep, and then they could plan and worry. Gohan probably knew how serious it was but as always, he was keeping silent about it. He'd always been her strong boy and she was grateful for it. She was not going to give Goten fear if she could help it.

Slipping downstairs, she left Goku and the boys to their room and busied her hands in the kitchen. Cleaning and cooking was her strong point. Whenever things went wrong, she went to cooking or cleaning, usually the former. Cleaning was a bit pointless at times with this family, what with broken furniture nearly more common than whole. Cooking though…that had always been a way for her to be useful.

But what did you make for children that couldn't eat?

Her hands paused, poised with knife over a chopping block, the waiting fruits and vegetables still piled to the side. She had barely bothered to put them away since the boys got sick. Every time she had a moment, she was trying new tricks, new cuts, new recipes, anything to get nourishment in them.

Their compost pile outside was stacked high with her failed attempts.

What else was there to do? What else COULD they do? Even a hospital wouldn't be able to help them, not with how much nourishment a half Saiyan needed. They would never give them enough and they couldn't do it forever and…

The sharp ringing and vibrations that suddenly jerked from the wall made her nearly cut her own wrist off. It took a good minute or two before she set down the knife with a clatter and made her way to the loud phone. Hardly anyone called here except—

"Bulma?" She asked immediately upon picking up the receiver.

"ChiChi." There was a sharp, almost coldness to her tone that simply was not Bulma's usual fare. "I'm sorry to bug you but I…need a favor."

Closing her eyes tightly, ChiChi sighed into the phone like all her breath had left her body. "Bulma, I dunno if we can help ya right now. My boys are both sick and-"

The sharp clatter from the other end made her cut herself off. "Bulma?"

There was scuffling, scrambling and cursing before the voice on the other end finally returned, "They…ChiChi, your boys are sick too?!:

Too?

The mother in ChiChi had grown stronger with each passing year and while, yes, her heart was always fixated on her boys first, her youngest's friendship with Trunks meant that the scion of Vegeta was a well welcomed visitor.

The hacking, chills, vomiting and trembling…that was not just on her children? This horrible sickness was not just attacking HER children? This wasn't just confined to her boys? Then Trunks was ill? Yet not her, not Bulma, not Goku or Vegeta or…

Why just the babies?!

"…I…Bulma, is it just Trunks?" She clutched the phone receiver so tightly that it cracked a little bit and she had to alleviate her grip. Sliding to lean on the wall, grasping the cord of the phone like a lifeline, ChiChi awaited Bulma's response with baited breath.

A weary and feathery sigh greeted her ears after a moment "Yes. Fever, throwing up, chills—"

"Not eating?" ChiChi was almost afraid to interrupt with that but she knew if anything would confirm it was the same illness, that would. She had seen Gohan sick once and he still ate. Sick as a dog and he still ate. His stomach, much like his father's, was hardly dissuaded by anything.

"…No. Not eating. Not for a day or so." Bulma's voice wavered a little. "We…we've called in the UDN. They've been looking over Trunks and they…the doctors say that there are no viruses, no bacteria…nothing."

"That's impossible!" ChiChi shouted, a bit louder than she should have and quickly lowered her tone when she heard Goku's large footsteps rushing down the hall. "This ain't normal! SOMETHING has to explain it."

"That's why I called you." Bulma said in a rush. "He…one of the doctors think if they can examine more half-Saiyan samples they might be able to narrow down a solution."

Hope sprung in ChiChi's heart for the first time in a long while. Hope enough that she could make the crying boy upstairs feel better, hope that her eldest could fill his belly instead of pleading that 'I'm hungry but I'm scared to try…'

"We'll bring Goten and Gohan right away, Bulma. If you think they might be able to help…"

"We'll find a way to fix this, ChiChi, I know we will." There was an unspoken pounding of fist into hand. "I'll put some more beds in Trunks' room. I know Goten will want to be with his brother and Trunks…"

Nodding even though Bulma couldn't see her, ChiChi agreed with, "We'll be right over, Bulma."

The call ended with a click and even after she laid the phone back onto the base, ChiChi stood there, all but swaying a moment until two heavy hands clasped her shoulders. "Go over where, Chi?"

Turning on his toes, the matriarch gazed upward at her husband with eyes full of energy. "Bulma's. There's doctors there. They've been lookin' over Trunks' samples and if they get some more, they can maybe fix this. Trunks is sick too, Goku. Same thing! And just them…"

Goku's face didn't change too much except to say, "Needles?"

Despite the situation, ChiChi laughed, with a sharp exhale. "Yes but—"

"Will it help us fix the boys?" It was rare to see and hear that bubbly voice and warm eyes so limp and defeated. As firm a grip on her shoulders as he had, ChiChi saw the weariness of the past few days had dampened even his spirits.

Looking her husband firmly in the eyes, ChiChi admitted. "I don't know, Goku but it's the best chance they've got."

"Good enough." Goku stated simply as he turned back towards the bedrooms, "It'll hafta be enough."

OOO

"Can I see your arm, my boy?"

Gohan opened his eyes and shifted, if only slightly. He was getting a bit tired of losing track of so much time. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that sleep was coming more readily but something told him that no, it was not a good thing. All the same, he could barely keep his eyes open most of the time. The alien voice asking for his arm was only a mild intrusion and he was half inclined to ignore it.

It was only when his arm moved on its own that his reflexes fired all on their own.

Fist was thrown and it connected with flesh that should have given under it like mud but instead, it was like striking a solid wall. There was light shaking and trembling and a moment later, a half laugh, half sigh met his ears.

"Still got a good left hook, son!"

That voice seemed to clue his brain in to access his eyes because the room was suddenly quite visible. His father had caught his fist and a doctor, wrapped in white coat and glasses was all but trembling in the chair next to them.

Wait…when did they…

"Dad…when did we…"

"You and Goten were sleepin' so good that I couldn't wake ya." Goku smiled and slowly lowered his hand, stroking his son's sweaty hair back. "Your mom has Goten with Trunks. This doctor is gonna help you, he said but he hasta get…get some blood from you first. Dunno what they see in blood but they must see something."

The doctor muttered something about being uneducated and Gohan, despite his illness, felt a strong desire to let his eyes burn green, if only to scare the man. Super Saiyan wasn't something he needed anymore but the remarks that man made, small as they were, made it so tempting.

The needles on the tables cued him back to his father's current nervous laughter. "Dad, you don't have to stay if you don't want."

Goku jerked, like struck and said, "What? You don't feel good. I can't just…"

Smiling a little, ignoring the heat rushing his neck, Gohan offered, "Dad, it won't take long then…" he paused, half trailed off, "Then you can take me to wherever we're gonna rest and…"

"Gohan." Goku leaned over, put his forehead on his son's, "You can barely stay up as it is. I'm not gonna leave you like this just cause your old man doesn't like needles." Gohan could HEAR the fear in the man's voice and yet, it was so comforting. Not the fear but the knowledge that his father, who feared so little, was going to face what he did for him.

He didn't move his head, just let it rest as was against his father's forehead and lifted his arm out to the doctor. Goku, to his credit, caught onto what the teen was doing and kept his eyes firmly on Gohan's eyes.

"We're gonna fix you right up, Gohan," Goku was saying as the doctor prodded Gohan's muscles and skin with his fingers. Gohan had to reduce his ki to make his skin pliable enough for the needles. It had been so long since he'd had to do that and the weakness that flooded him with that simple action almost made him empty his stomach right there.

Slipping just a bit, the needle in his arm jerked and despite being able to take more blows to the body than anyone else alive, Gohan yelped in pain. With his ki down and his body weak, the small needle cutting his vein hurt.

Goku's blazing green eyes nearly sent the doctor into a coma and his sight did not falter one bit on the presence of the needles. His voice all but echoed. "Careful! Yer supposed to help him, not hurt him!"

"D-dad, it's okay, it's okay, I…" Gohan pulled his father's attention back though a piece of him squealed a little at the paleness that took the arrogant man's face. "I slipped and he slipped, it's okay. I just…I need to rest my head, okay?" He didn't wait for a response and laid his temple on Goku's shoulder.

The Saiyan stiffened, if only for a moment then softened and wrapped his arms tight around his son, letting his cheek fall on Gohan's head. "Okay, okay, we can do that." He inhaled and the scent of illness was so heavy that Goku thought he would collapse through the floor. What could the doctors see in the blood or whatever that wasn't obvious? You could smell it, see it, hear it…

He could hear the strain in his son's lungs. The weariness of every heartbeat.

It frightened him.

Needles had always bothered him because they poked and moved when you didn't expect them. Because he didn't understand what they did to the body and in the hospital, they had always made him feel so weak and he hated that.

This was not that kind of fear.

This was a fear he had only felt a few times before: when Gohan was taken by Raditz, when he felt Gohan's ki plummeting on Namek, when he'd seen his son face off against Cell, when Buu had…

Goku hated this feeling, this utter sense of helplessness. Of being so close and knowing, knowing without a doubt that his son's body was shutting down and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

The teen's body slumped, a little, pressing against his chest a little more.

Asleep. He'd fallen asleep with a needle in his arm.

His Gohan…

When the older man finally took the needles and vials away, Goku gathered his son into his arms and stood, pulling him as close as he could. The doctor didn't say anything but Goku felt the shift in his ki. Something had touched him and he was pulling out those odd machines and more vials and…

"You can save my son, right?" Goku didn't expect his tone to be so…pleading.

The man paused, back still turned and shifted, eyeing the tall Saiyan. "I…we don't know what is wrong yet, Sir. But we are going to do everything we can. THAT much I can promise you."

Goku left without a shed of reassurance, resting his head against his son's even as he walked. Even as Gohan shook and trembled and his body burned hot and cold all together and his Saiyan blood screamed for nourishment and rejected it all the same.

"Not good enough. That's not good enough."


	5. Chapter 5

"Vegeta!"

Had it been anyone else but Bulma, Vegeta might have dismissed such a call as a nuisance but in this case, he was quick to respond, rushing down the hall. Any staff members were quick to jump out of the way. The Saiyan Prince was well known at Capsule Corp and with everyone's nerves so frayed right now, he was quite possibly the most lethal.

Slamming open the door to the room where they had placed all three half Saiyans, the Saiyan Prince came into a sight:

Two of the doctors was lying on the ground, one slumped against the wall. The one on the ground was conscious but was pressing a bit of gauze against his forehead where some blood had begun to stain the cloth. Bulma was about two feet away from their son, tears in her eyes and the only reason she was not moving any closer was because Gohan had managed to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her back. As ill as he was, as malnourished as he was, he was still more than enough to restrain a human female.

The room was bathed in a familiar golden glow.

"Trunks!"

Vegeta crossed the room in less time than it took to process and clamped his hands over his son's fists. The tenseness of the muscles was more than apparent and the raised ki was another symbol impossible to ignore. The familiar shimmer of Super Saiyan made the room feel particularly hot.

"Trunks! Boy, drop your ki! Drop it now!"

Trunks wasn't unconscious. Vegeta wasn't sure if he had been when he flung the doctors away but he was certainly not sleeping now. His eyes, aqua though they were, were wide in unspoken terror. "I can't! Dad, I can't!"

"Don't speak such nonsense!" There was that familiar ferocity in that voice. "Drop it now! Super Saiyan is no use to you right now!"

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes and his breath came fast and short. Super Saiyan was so natural to him; it hadn't taken much for him or Goten to achieve it. Much easier than the others, or so he was told. Yet now, it felt like a fire that was trying to burn him alive from the inside out. His lungs hurt, his heart hurt, everything hurt and he was frightened.

He had never before not been able to drop Super Saiyan.

"I can't!" Trunks all but screamed in his father's face. "I didn't even wanna go Super Saiyan but I did and I can't make it stop! I can't make it stop!"

Vegeta was hardly the most delicate of people. Yet, hearing the utter panic in his son's voice made him more frantic than he thought possible. It was almost as if HE was the one in danger. But Super Saiyan was not dangerous to the user, normally…

Yet when Kakarrot had gotten that damned heart virus, Super Saiyan didn't help because it put more stress on the heart. Now, his son and all of them for that matter had become proficient enough with the transformation that it did not strain the body nearly as much but to be formed into a transformative state without a way to drop it was hardly a development that created a sense of calm.

"Dad, I can't stop! I can't, I can't! Dad, make it stop!"

The aura of ki around the boy sparked and rose, all but touching the ceiling for a moment. It was not a relaxed state Super Saiyan which had been Trunks' usual form when he transformed ever since the Saiyan father had first become aware of it. No, this was active Super Saiyan, the powered version used in a fight only when pushed to brink. They had not needed such a state for years and Trunks and Goten only used it because they were still poorly trained, despite their natural skill.

Vegeta met the boy's eyes, eyes that he had grown accustomed to seeing in a variety of states—happy, sad, frustrated, and more often than not, wrought with sarcasm. These eyes were none of those, full of uncertainty and desperation. Perhaps the woman had become accustomed to it but Vegeta was not used to such a sight.

He despised fear.

Moreso like this…in the face of his son, than any other time. The pleading tone, the obvious panic in the boy's pitch was pain to his ears but not in a physical sense. It was a much deeper pain, one that he really couldn't pinpoint except it was deep within the Saiyan Prince's chest and he felt an unholy desire to destroy the source of it. To destroy whatever it was that was attacking his son and causing it.

Swinging his fist, Vegeta collided with the back of his son's head and with a low groan, the boy collapsed to the bed.

"Vegeta! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Bulma pushed forward as soon as Gohan released her and oddly enough, Vegeta found himself actually grateful when he felt the ki of Kakarrot and his woman just down the hall.

No reason to be. No, no reason at all to be grateful because what was Kakarrot going to do? Yet it was comforting all the same and he was disgusted for it. He had never needed the presence of that clown before, never needed the presence of anyone before.

Yet as he gazed down at his wife cradling their son to her chest, he again was grateful for it.

"Kakarrot." He said it firmly, empty of emotion as the two entered the room, Goten cradled in ChiChi's arms. The young half Saiyan looked red in the eyes. He'd been crying and odd as it was to him, Vegeta felt no sense of shame for the boy for it.

"Vegeta, what happened?" Goku, as always, seemed to just take Vegeta's attitude with a grain of salt and as soon as his eyes swept the room and saw his eldest son was okay, if sweaty and lying on his side, he focused, "What's going on?"

Goten stirred a little, leaning into ChiChi's chest. "Why is Trunks' Super Saiyan?"

ChiChi gently shushed him, "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, Goten."

The young boy shook his head "Uh uh, you gotta focus to go Super Saiyan, Mommy. Maybe not much but some." He looked over at the gathered two full blooded Saiyans. "And why's he still Super Saiyan, Daddy? Can you do that when you're sleeping?"

Goku blinked and looked down at Bulma. Sure enough, while Trunks was unconscious and with a large lump on the back of his head, his hair was still bleached yellow and there was still a golden aura surrounding him. "Sleeping, sure if you've been trained for it but…knocked out, don't think so."

"Then what's wrong with him?" Goten demanded, whimpering a little bit. "What's wrong with Trunks?!"

Goku slipped from Vegeta's side and gently laid his head on Goten's. "Hey, hey, little buddy. Calm down. It's not gonna help Trunks if you get all sick and upset, right?"

Lifting his eyes, Goten sniffed a little, "But Trunks never does that. Why is it…"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, boy and your questions aren't helping!" Vegeta's snarling voice cut into the exchange and while Goten was not exactly afraid of the man, he still withdrew a little, pressing back into his mother.

ChiChi wrapped her arms around her son's head, pressing him tight into her chest, even while she set Vegeta with the darkest look she could manage. If she hadn't had Goten in her arms, she would definitely would have let loose a tirade of harsh words and maybe a few punches…

Bulma spat, "And you're not helping, Vegeta!"

Goku's tone was dark and cold. "And don't take it out on MY kid." He reached over, wrapped his arm around ChiChi and walked her past and to the bed where they gently set Goten down. Gohan gently moved to sit up and reached over, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Vegeta reset his eyes on his son. The ki was still flaring and he could see sweat on Bulma from the mere presence of it. Her blue hair was starting to stand on end from the energy—the brat was unconscious! This made no sense!

He ground his teeth. Turning to the slumped doctors by the wall, he snarled, "Have you damned fools found ANYTHING?"

The conscious doctor was gently helping his colleague up. "I…we have not yet found any answers, Mr. Vegeta—"

"Why the hell are we paying you?"

Bulma's voice held its usual sharpness but a touch of softness, "Not helping, Vegeta. Again."

"Mr. Vegeta, we don't know much about the alien blood within your son. It is one thing to have access to the DNA but medicine is not just biological. We have no knowledge of where it comes from and we are still analyzing the blood samples from the others but the alien blood—"

"It's _Saiyan_." Vegeta spat it like it was a curse word. "As for the 'origin'… I'm fucking standing here. You need to know about the Saiyan race? Fucking ask." He yanked the doctor to his feet and threw the unconscious one over his shoulder. He turned, set his eyes on the group around his son. "Kakarrot!"

Lifting his attention from his own sons, Goku asked, "Eh?

"Watch my boy." That said, Vegeta never lessened his grip on the one doctor's arm and stormed out of the room. "Let's go speak."

OOO

"Fascinating."

"We didn't call you here for you to tell me what I already know." Vegeta's tone was short, even for him. "I don't need to hear about how interesting you find it. I need to hear about how you can use this information to fix my son." Vegeta's eyes were focused and wary; he knew that this doctor, as backward as humanity's doctors were, was the only shot his son had but the way the man would dig and dig about aspects of their race that seemed irrelevant put the Saiyan Prince on edge.

His son was NOT a Guinea pig.

And while he could normally care less (and yes, he MEANT that) about the other two half breeds boys, they were above being Guinea pigs as well. Their race, small as it was, was a strong and proud one; that had not changed and he would not stand by and watch them being reduced to science experiements.

Even so, this man was their best chance so while Vegeta tolerated him, he never removed his dark glare.

The doctor swallowed and took a shaky sip of his water. He was lucky that he had been granted that. If he was not certain that this would lead him to a series of massive scientific grants and discoveries, he would have left several hours ago. Still, even with that knowledge, this Saiyan made him nervous. He'd asked if the other one would be any help—he seemed more reasonable—only to be told that they would be lucky if 'Kakarrot' understood the questions.

Still, for all the anxiety this meeting was generating, the doctor was more and more convinced that looking into these half alien samples was going to be more than enough payment. Oh, what they might be able to learn if even the cursory samples were anything to go by."You say that the Saiyan body is adaptable, far beyond what we would consider adaptable here?"

"This planet is quite backwater." Vegeta remarked. "That's not exactly high praise. The Saiyan race is one of the best evolved in the universe. It had to be for battle. Our immune systems rarely fail us. They attack anything invasive as an army. My son has my high pedigree. Whatever this is, it is not a simple matter of earth pathogen. Nothing here could do such a thing."

Not lacking in confidence, that much was certain. "Are there ever any instances of systems failing? Refusing to—"

"The Saiyan body has natural backups." Vegeta scoffed. "If the liver is damaged, the gall bladder and spleen takes over its function. If the spleen fails, there is a smaller, but efficient one. If one lung fails, the system shuts that side down and redirects to the healthy one. Any cuts and bruises heal in half the time you humans take. If our body begins to fail us, the organs find a way around it."

When the doctor stayed silent, the Saiyan Prince elaborated, "Our tails have a gland at the base designed to manufacture repairs. If there is irreversible damage, it releases what you humans calls stem cells to the site to regenerate the organ. How else do you think Kakarrot and I have taken such harsh blows and still been able to sire children?"

When the doctor took a slight glance to the side, trying to get a look around the Prince, Vegeta slammed his hand down on the table. "My tail is gone, fool. As is Kakarrot's. As is Kakarrot's brat. But the gland is still there. The tail made it easier to work but it is still there."

"And your son and…"

"Born without them."

Tapping his pen, the doctor eyed him, "So, this Super Saiyan your son is in…it's a natural state?"

"…Among the very strong." The Saiyan Prince offered. "My son and Kakarrot's brats are the first in generations, aside from us of course."

"…I see." The doctor again paused, as if pondering how to phrase his response. "So, the Super Saiyan state…increases speed and strength?"

"Yes, I've already told you that." Vegeta was swiftly losing his patience. "Are you going to get to the point or not?"

"I believe, Sir," the doctor offered "That if the body works as you claim—n-n-not that I believe you are lying, not at all!—then your son's body is, as you said, adapting. It is trying to increase its strength to fight whatever it is that is attacking him. I'd imagine the other two boys will follow soon. You said that they are not eating…"

"And that is the problem." Vegeta frowned, though the man's explanation made sense. "A Saiyan would does not eat does not live long."

"Could we perhaps use force feeding—"

"Do you think us so daft that we would not have tried that if we thought it might work?" Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "And the brat is in Super Saiyan. There is no needle on this planet or any other that will pierce his skin now."

The man looked down, rubbing his wrists. "How does digestion work with the Saiyan body? It must be different from humans…"

Vegeta frowned, in thought, "It is far more accelerated. You humans begin to digest when food hits your tongue. Saiyans begin when the smell reaches our nose and we absorb far more readily than you do. There is very little we cannot use for energy."

"…th-then if I may, there may be a proposition we can try."

OOO

"Is Trunks gonna be okay?"

Goku turned to his youngest. He looked so small, curled into a ball on the bed, resting his head in ChiChi's lap. The human woman would stroke his hair back, trying to offer her own comfort any way she could.

"Ah, he's gonna be okay, little buddy. You and Trunks are tough little guys!"

The young boy pouted, just a bit and leaned into his father's hand when he knelt and lay a hand on his head, "Daddy, are we gonna turn out like Trunks?"

Goku shifted his eyes to the other bed. Bulma had moved to sit on the bed herself, cradling Trunks to her chest. His aura had not died. It still blazed bright as a flame and Goku could smell the lightning in the room. Yet the child didn't awaken.

"I dunno."

ChiChi jerked, slightly, "Goku! Goten, of course no—"

"Don't lie, Mom." The heavy voice came from the bed behind them. Gohan had been keeping quiet, his eyes shut for most of the time. "We can tell when you lie."

ChiChi turned to face her eldest. "Gohan, there's no point in—"

"We're scared already, Mom." He said with a deep exhale. "You aren't sparing us from anything." He shifted, half sat up and then moved to swing his feet down. ChiChi pushed Goten, a little rougher than she had intended, into Goku's arms and was up on her feet.

"Gohan, stop! Lay back down…"

"I hafta pee, Mom." He said it more harshly than he intended but it was hard to maintain an upbeat attitude. Luckily, his mother withdrew as soon as he said that and asked. Goku relaxed at that statement and focused on getting Goten comfortable, adding a little brush of ki to his hand as he rubbed the boy's back.

"Do you need our help?" ChiChi managed to keep the worrisome pitch from her tone but well, a mother was still a mother, after all!

"N-no, I'm okay." Gohan cursed the redness that coursed through his skin and stumbled, slightly, but remained upright. Looking back, he spied the way ChiChi would chew on her lower lip, wring her hands and offered, as penance, "If I need help, I'll call, okay?"

While hardly satisfied, the matriarch nodded as her son slipped into the bathroom just to the right of the room, closing the door behind him. She slumped, fell to her backside where Gohan had once laid.

"What are we going to do? Bulma, you're the scientist. Whatta we do?"

The blue haired woman didn't answer for a long moment. Sometimes, ChiChi just needed to vent and it was pretty clear that there was no solid answer. Yet, maybe it was just to fill the silence of the room. Even Goku didn't have a lot to say, aside from the gentle humming he was offering to Goten to keep him asleep.

"I dunno. Maybe…" Bulma never took her eyes off her son but then she said, a little more sure. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong spot?"

Goku looked over at her, gently brushing Goten's back as he moved. The boy nuzzled a bit but didn't wake up. That in itself bothered the Saiyan. While both his boys were good sleepers, getting them TO sleep was usually a task. The fact that between ChiChi and himself, it had only been a few minutes and Goten was already out of it enough to not be bothered by being jostled tied his stomach in knots.

That was NOT a feeling he was used to having.

"Whatcha mean?" Goku asked her, "The wrong spot?"

The blue haired woman frowned. "I'm not sure. Maybe it's a crazy thought but…the doctors are already saying that there's no presence of anything odd in the boys' blood: no virus, no bacteria, no fungus, no parasite, nothing. But they're still sick. Goku, you and ChiChi know more about this stuff that me—can it be spiritual or ki-ish thing?"

Mother and Father exchanged looks, with Goku's face more contoured than ChiChi's.

"Goku? Is that possible?" ChiChi asked with the barest hint of hope in her voice. "Would that explain it? Could that…DO this?"

It was an interesting thought. "Dunno." Goku said simply. "Ki is a weird thing. And Mr. Popo always said that there was more to the world than just what we see. Kinda like when we do image training. You ever do that, ChiChi?"

When she shook her head, Goku elaborated, "You focus and use your ki to train on another plane by linking your minds together. I guess…well, I mean, if we can train there and link minds and stuff then maybe something could attack there but I ain't never heard of it."

"Dad!"

ChiChi was up before Goku and immediately rushed to the bathroom door. "Gohan, what is it, sweetie? I'm comin in—"

"No, Mom! Dad!"

Bulma, despite herself, smiled as Goku set Goten down and ChiChi withdrew from the door, hand still outstretched. She offered her friend a soft smile in sympathy. "Well, he IS a teenaged boy, ChiChi."

"I know, I know…"

Goku pushed past his wife and slipped into the room.

OOO

"Gohan?"

The room didn't look like much, there wasn't a smell of vomit or blood but there was a strong scent of sweat. Lots and lots of it. The fever was up again but there was something else. Not ki, but something else nonetheless.

Goku finally spied his eldest crouched in the corner, shaking, red all over and it looked like he had all but shredded his clothes. He still had on an undershirt but aside from that, not much else.

Slipping around the toilet, Goku froze in mid step.

"Wha…"

Gohan turned to look at him, tears running down his face. He reached down and with a shaking hand lifted the long furry tail into view. "Dad?"


	6. Chapter 6

Goku stood there, dumbfounded, with a completely lost expression on his face for a good few minutes. He took in the scene—his son's shredded clothes, the presence of the tail, the sweat and tears—but he really didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know what to make of a lot of this. Illness, regular illness, he could handle. Infections, injuries, he could handle. This though, this unknown invader that was doing so many odd things to his children, was something alien to him and it wasn't something he could fight.

Goku felt helpless and he hated that feeling.

"Dad?" His son's voice pierced his thoughts after the odd moment and he shook himself back into reality. Refocusing on his son, his heart grew heavy. The wide eyed, frightened and unsure look in Gohan's eyes cut him deep to the core. Kneeling down to his level and settling on his knees on the ground, Goku gave a shaky smile.

"So, it decided to grow back, huh? Sure took its sweet ol' time."

Stroking the fur of the tail with almost a low sense of hesitation, Gohan looked up, "Why though? It's been years. Why now? And why when I'm sick? Why…"

Goku gently took hold of his son's hands and took advantage of the situation to rub the furry tail, finding that just like when Gohan was little, the motion worked as a relaxation method. "Hey, let's not panic, okay? Your tail used to grow back all the time and you tol' me in the Time Chamber that you missed it. Maybe it finally decided to give you that wish, huh?'

Gohan's look was full of frustration. "Dad, you know it can't just be that."

Goku shrugged, "It's a nice thought though, isn't it?" A light pout took his face, "Woulda have been enough for you a few years ago."

Gohan had to admit to that. For so long, his father could have said anything and he would have believed it. Growing up had its downsides.

Looking down at his hands, Gohan caressed his tail a moment, taking in the feel once more.

While he had grown accustomed to not having his tail after the battle with the Saiyans, he never really stopped missing it. He was sure his mom was relieved as it made clothing a lot easier but for Gohan, it always felt like a piece of him was missing. If it had not just come out of nowhere, he might have been excited.

"But that's not what's going on, Dad." Diverting his eyes downward, Gohan swallowed, his hands shaking and he knew his father could feel it. "I…I don't know if Goten feels it but I do. The way my body NEEDS food. It wants it, it needs it."

Goku nodded and stroked the boy's hair back, trying as hard as he could to ignore the depth and volume of the sweat that had accumulated. "I know and we're trying to fix that. I…I know you and your brother need food. We're gonna fix it, Gohan, I promise."

"Dad, I can FEEL my body eating itself!" The stable voice finally broke in a series of wobbly fractures. "I try to ignore it but I FEEL it. I can feel my muscles starting to give away and it's like havin' a bunch of ants crawling under my skin. My stomach hurts so much that it burns. Sleepin' is getting harder because I can't keep ignoring this. My body's destroying itself and I can't do anything to stop it!"

Tears in his eyes, Gohan reached out and wrapped his arms as tight around Goku as he could, pulling himself deep into his chest. There was not much strength in that grip though it did not lack conviction, not in the least. The trembling felt like a wave.

"Dad, I don't want to die." Gohan's words were cold, like they had been coated in ice and his voice choked. "Daddy, I don't want to die." That time, with a simple shift back to the word that had been Goku's title for years, tears ran down the boy's cheeks and he sobbed, openly. "Daddy, please, I don't want to die!"

Goku's arms became as steel and he pulled his son as tight as he dared without hurting him, as if his grip alone would fix all of this. Looking down at Gohan, he couldn't deny what Gohan said—he could see the skin growing thinner and he could feel the mass of his son's strength gradually waning.

"Daddy, I don't want to die!"

He sounded so young, like he was the little boy again hiding behind Goku's leg as Raditz set down on the sandy shores of the Turtle Island. Burying his face into Goku's chest, the Saiyan could almost see the reflection of the tailed toddler trying to hide into his father's leg.

And Gohan wasn't wrong.

Goku felt it. He tried to ignore it but he couldn't, not any more than Gohan could. The way the boy's ki was faltering and slowly growing weaker and weaker. He felt it in Goten in the next room, much as he tried to imagine it to have another source.

His boys were dying and Gohan, his poor Gohan, was wise enough and insightful enough to know _exactly_ what was happening.

"You're not gonna die, son." Goku's voice was hard and sure, full of reassurance that he did not feel but he pushed that feeling down, so deep into his ki so that even he wouldn't be able to focus on it. "You hear me, you're not going to die."

If Gohan felt any shame over his outburst, he didn't show it. He just wept, shoulders shaking. Goku knew that feeling. It was one thing to face down death in the battlefield. While he and Gohan might have been different in regards to the reasons that they fought: one primarily for protection and one for thrills, the response when faced with danger on the battlefield was always the same. It made your adrenaline pump, it made your senses sharp and while your mind was frantic to find a way out, it was not focused on if you didn't.

This though, it was like when Goku had the heart virus. He would remember that for the rest of his life. You had nothing to do but focus on what the pain you were feeling meant. You had no way to not think about it and your mind conjured not only the many ways that you would end but who you left behind. What would happen to them because you couldn't do anything.

"Gohan, look at me."

His son didn't move, keeping his face hidden in the folds of his father's shirt. "Gohan, I said look at me."

Lifting his head at the sharpness that invaded his father's tone, Gohan moved to wipe his tears away but Goku just shook his head and gently laid his forehead against his son's. "Listen to me. You're not going to die. Neither is Goten. I don't care what it takes. I don't care what we have to do. You're not going to die. I'll march into the Afterlife and pull you two right back out, King Yemma can deal with me if he's got a problem with it."

Despite the situation, that thought forced a smile on Gohan's face.

"But it's not gonna come to that because we're going to make you two better, understand? You can worry about not feelin' good, about being hungry and how nasty it makes you feel but not about dying. Because it's not happening." In a way that only Goku could do, the Saiyan father laughed—a shaky, unsure laugh that one did when there was simply too much emotion and it had to go somewhere, "I promise. And you can ask your Mom if you want about me keepin' my promises."

"No." Gohan allowed. "You've…always kept your word."

"See?" Goku announced as if it solved all the woes of the world. "And I'm gonna keep this one too." Looking over the room, the Saiyan declared "But we needa get you off this floor. You're gonna get sicker."

Gohan froze up and looked around, his eyes seeking a towel or blanket or anything to cover himself. "Dad, I kinda…well, my slacks are…" He had all but shredded them when he got into the room, so obsessed over the pain and sensation that had turned out to be his tail to care otherwise. Now, he felt shame for it; clothing was not cheap for his parents.

"Eh, we'll get you new ones later, c'mon." He gently stood, easing his son to his feet. "You're just headin' right back to that bed anyway."

"Dad." Gohan stressed, a bit more forcefully. "I'm bare from the waist down. My tail can only hide so much." He didn't add that he had a feeling he would be using that tail to help himself balance, as jelly like as his legs felt. "Mom and Bulma and everyone is out there."

"So? You ain't got nothing I ain't seen and your Mom's seen it too. Bulma probably has too, at some point when you were a squirt."

"Dad. No. Not the point." Yet, he was beginning to feel like he wouldn't exactly be able to walk back in there in any event. He couldn't exactly make much for a debate. "S-sorry, I know this is silly but…"

"No, it's important to you. Your Mom too. Goten a little bit. I just don't get it." He smiled, even as he wrapped his son's arm around his shoulder. "But no problem, we can handle this." He raised his brow, lightly. "Long as you promise to stay in that bed, resting and no more trying to handle things on your own, deal?"

A light smile, despite the paleness of his face, "Deal."

OOO

"Where is Kakarrot?"

Vegeta's sudden booming voice disrupted the silence of the room but Bulma was more than happy for it. It gave her something else to focus on. Something besides her son who was glowing like some type of radioactive doll in the bed. He had at least muttered some in his sleep so he was not comatose. That didn't give her as much comfort as it should have.

ChiChi looked up from her current focus next to Goten's bedside. Vegeta was always boisterous and she had grown a bit accustomed to it though it was still not her preference nor something she made a habit of tolerating. However, Vegeta was full of passion and with the way the doctor trailed him so close, she felt hope perk in her breast. "Vegeta, did you discover somethin'? Somethin' good?"

The Saiyan Prince shifted his sights to her and for once, there seemed to be something besides arrogance looking at her. ChiChi was well aware that Vegeta didn't like her but this time, he seemed to be genuinely considering what she was saying. It lasted a mere moment before he said, again,

"Where's your mate? We need Kakarrot."

"Need me for what?"

ChiChi stood, intent on rushing over to check on Gohan as soon as she heard her husband's voice and the creaking opening of the door. "Goku!" She shouted instead. "Where are your pants?" Her face burned red in her husband's stead.

Sure enough, the Saiyan was helping their son back to his bed in just his boxers. "Well, Gohan's were all torn up. His tail grew back." He gestured to his limp boy who managed to make it back to sink to the mattress. "So I lent him mine."

Bulma groaned but said nothing; what could be said to that? That was classic Goku. ChiChi flopped down in her chair with a low moan of frustration. It only lasted a moment though before Vegeta inquired.

"The brat's tail grew back?"

Gohan, now safely covered under blanket and sheet, wrestled his father's slacks off and handed them back to him. He allowed just the tip of his brown tail to slip from the blankets. Goku reached over and gently stroked his son's hair back. "Yep. Dunno why. But it sure did." Under the critical gaze of his wife, he accepted the pants from his son and pulled them back on.

Vegeta eyed the doctor, "See? The Saiyan body evolves and adapts. Even only half Saiyan blood." He frowned, folded his arms, "The tail used to be our root of power and as powerful as your boy is, Kakarrot, that tail pulls power from the moon he doesn't normally have. His body is trying to help him."

The doctor set his sights on the curled brown tail with a renewed fervor. It was enough to make Gohan withdraw his extra limb back under the blankets and wrap it tightly around his waist. Goku said nothing aloud but the look he set the doctor with was quite clear—hands off the tail.

The doctor wasn't sure what was more unsettling—Vegeta's voice or Goku's eyes.

ChiChi walked over, "So how does that help? What did you two talk about?"

Bulma stood herself, "What did you find?!"

Swallowing a little hard, the man responded, backing up a bit from the encroaching women, "Well, nothing yet but we may have a thought. We will need to run a few tests on your husbands and your sons."

"On our husbands?" ChiChi blinked. "Why our husbands? They ain't sick."

"Exactly." The man elaborated. "If what Vegeta says is correct and I've no reason to think it is not, this Saiyan blood is an expert at adaption. Given that your eldest has grown back a limb that has been gone…" he looked to the group for a figure.

Goku was the one that answered. "Last lost it when he was five."

Nodding as he continued, the man cleared his throat, "Yes, so for his body to suddenly regenerate it after so long and when he is in so much physical distress, it seems to reason that the Saiyan genes are strong in your children."

Vegeta snorted, "Obviously. It's why they're still alive."

Bulma set him with such a sharp and deep glare that it was amazing the room did not catch aflame. "Vegeta—"

"So, what did you needa test us for?" Goku interrupted. Whether it was to prevent an explosion from Bulma or simply because he was hyperfocused, it really didn't matter. It managed to diffuse the bubbling rage of the blue haired woman fairly easily.

"Y-yes, well, as we can see, sleep seems to be what their bodies are using to compensate for the lack of food and nourishment that they can receive." He added "But as Vegeta has informed me, lack of food is nothing a Saiyan body can survive for very long. So, if we can get an idea of how the Saiyan body takes in nourishment, we may be able to find a way to compensate." He swallowed again, looking from the fathers to the mothers, "We will need to perform a test to take measurements both while you two," he looked to Goku and Vegeta "eat as well as one of your sons."

Bulma spoke up, "But our boys can't hold anything down."

"Doesn't matter," the man said simply. "That's not the point. The point is to get measurements, make comparisons and see what we can ascertain."

It sounded remarkably callous but Bulma, being a scientist herself, could understand the concept. "So we have to tell one of our kids that we're going to make them throw up again."

ChiChi bit her lip, "I hate to make any of them sick again…" She looked to Goku who had not moved from his spot by Gohan's bedside. In fact, he was half positioned to be centered between Gohan and this doctor. If ChiChi focused, she could see that protective light curl of his lip, not something she saw often. And now that man was wanting to make her kids sick all over again. "They sound so miserable when they get sick and they've been throwin' up the past few days."

"I'll do it, Mom." Gohan spoke out suddenly though he made no move to lift his head from the bed and he kept his eyes closed. "Maybe my tail growing back will give me a boost of energy or something."

Goku eyed his eldest. "Gohan, you're already pretty drained…"

"And so's Goten. Trunks hasn't even woken up yet. I'm older than them, I'm stronger than them. Lemme do it." He opened his eyes slightly, "We hafta do something, Dad."

Goku turned back to the doctor, "Will the test hurt 'em?"

"Not in the slightest." The doctor smiled, though nervously. "It is the same one that I'll be performing on you and Vegeta so you may judge for yourself."

Goku didn't like this. Not because of the test per say but these doctors had been rubbing his skin wrong since they got here. Nothing specific that they had done but…well, it made Goku unnerved all the same. The way that doctor was eyeing his son like he was some kind of lab rat made his skin boil.

Yet he was making sense. The boys needed food and nothing they were doing thus far was getting food in them. He could feel…if they didn't change that soon, then his sons and Vegeta's son, they were all going to die. And it would be a death that he could not cheat with the dragonballs.

"What do you need us to do?"

OOO

"Ow."

Vegeta scoffed and eyed the Saiyan next to him, "Will you quit complaining? Since when do you complain about getting to eat?" He looked at the table before them, which was set with juice, water and simple broth. Given that they were going to have Gohan try this next, it made sense to go with something simple.

"You didn't say that they'd be putting weird things on our body." Goku wasn't really complaining though. Not truly. The simple pinch had been next to nothing for him. The many sensors on his throat, cheeks and the weird, half dissolving ones inside his mouth were odd and felt bothersome but they didn't hurt. But there wasn't a sound you could make for something that felt odd so 'ow' was all he had to work with.

The food before them was simple, not truly complicated or rich. It smelled decent enough though but Goku felt very little interest in it, for once. All he could think about was his sons in the room down the hall and how he wasn't in there with them. Unless he was taking care of vital needs, he didn't want to be away from them, not when they were this sick.

"So, now what?"

"Just eat normally." The man was sitting not too far from the two of them, settled in a chair with a laptop set in front of him. "The sensors are already feeding me information. Just do what you would normally do."

Vegeta scoffed, "I don't know if that is a good option. Kakarrot may well eat the utensils."

Goku ignored that jab, picked up the spoon and began to eat.

Silence reigned and Vegeta followed suit.

There was none of the boisterous chomping and slurping that usually accompanied the two Saiyans when they ate. There was an overall sense of foreboding that made the entire room feel heavy and hot. There was no guarantee that this would even give them something to go off of but it was better to have a small lead than none at all.

If that doctor would stop looking at that computer so greedily though, it would be an improvement. Granted, there must have been some interesting data given their unusual bloodlines but both Saiyan fathers had seen the way he looked at their sons.

The way the man's assistants would linger far longer than necessary, as if trying to get additional information that was not pertinent. The way that they would ask continuous questions and essentially now that Gohan's tail had grown back, the way the doctor had all but walked over and asked to see it before the two Saiyans had pulled him from the room, insisting the tests begin immediately.

The man was necessary. His tools were necessary; his insight was necessary. Bulma, for all her intelligence, only knew slightly more about health than they did. Regular doctors were utterly useless with their type of physiology.

They needed the resources, the knowledge and the potential cure this man and his lackeys could give them. Once that was over and done, Vegeta had every intention of booting the man from his property as violently as possible.

Goku couldn't wait for this to be over. He wanted his sons better so that they could all go back to the mountain, maybe pull the boys out of school for a few days and just enjoy one another. Maybe have a picnic cookout in the yard or by the lake. No worries, no concerns, just the family and the mountain.

Goku got the distinct feeling that this man, however useful he might be, had no intention on letting that happen. Goku didn't like the man but he also didn't like the way he would look at his sons. He looked at them, not like patients but…well, Goku wasn't sure but he was certain he didn't like it.

Finishing off the bowl in front of him, Goku set aside the flatware and a moment later, Vegeta did the same. The light tingling from the sensors in his mouth flared once then twice and when the man cried out, "I have it all! What an amazing feat!" Goku and Vegeta lost no time in prying the equipment from the inside of their mouths and peeling them off their skin.

The man's downtrodden face lasted a moment before he recovered, "Thank you. Now, if we can have Gohan come in here, I promise I'll be swift and—"

"My son is sick." Goku spoke simply as he stood. "The sensors and wires and stuff can be moved; you're going to him."

"It would really be better to have him in here. I have access to my equipment and my—"

Goku walked over and lifted the entire desk—screen, laptops, sensors, wires and all with his right hand. He leaned over, put his face less than an inch from the man and drew his lips back. They were usually barely noticeable but it was impossible to miss Saiyan fangs when they were right in front of your face.

"We. Go. To. Him."

"…I'll get the door."

OOO

"I've got ya."

Gohan probably should have been comforted by the statement but currently, being hunched over the basin by the bed, he found he did not have the energy to do it. He was grateful for his father holding him firm and his mother gently pushing his hair out of his face.

He'd lasted two bites.

ChiChi set her sharp eyes on the doctor who was feverishly typing on his keyboard. "Is that enough? I ain't gonna make him do that again, hear me?!"

"No, no, no." The man promised, waving his hands in what he felt was a symbol of peace. "It will not be necessary. I am merely comparing my data. I promise you, nothing else."

That seemed to calm the sharp fire in her voice and she returned to her task of tending her son. His heaving finally stopped and she took the opportunity to push her lips to his sweaty forehead. He didn't protest, likely didn't have the strength to.

Goku gently eased his son back into the bed, wetting another cloth and setting it on his head. "You did really good, Gohan."

"Thanks, Dad. I just hope it helps…" He closed his eyes, laid his hands on his stomach and bit his lip to stop another moan. He had already been forced into another vomiting session and by plain broth no less. He would not embarrass himself by whimpering.

ChiChi took her position at the head of the bed, gently eased her son's head into her lap and softly began to stroke his hair. "My strong boy. You did well, you did so well."

Goku took his spot on the side of the bed and reached over, stroking Gohan's tail. It was an old trick, one that they had used when Gohan was a toddler. The tail was sensitive and having it rubbed and stroked, always invoked sleep.

It did not fail them here. While Gohan was stubborn and he fought, the dimness of the lights, the feeling of his mother's soft voice and his father's comforting baritone combined with the gentleness of the tail massage brought sleep far faster than it should have.

Goku, rather than standing, reached over and pulled Goten's bed closer, effectively sandwiching himself and ChiChi between their two sons. Bulma said nothing and Vegeta hovered near the doctor's research station, practically burning threats into the man with his eyes.

Thus began the longest aspect of any research.

The waiting.

Bulma was used to waiting; being a scientist, it was a necessity. This waiting though was different. She didn't have numerous scenarios of great results or potential inventions flooding her mind. She had thoughts of her son, who was currently curled into fetal position and half crying, half whimpering, dying without her being able to stop it.

ChiChi was an expert at waiting. She had learned it early on in her marriage; Goku was going to go train. It was simply a fact of life. She had waited, literally, seven years for him after Cell. The waiting sometimes was hard and it hurt and she had cried but this waiting made her afraid. It was like the morning of the Cell Games all over again—dreading, fearing and knowing her terror was justified and being helpless to change it.

Vegeta, well, he had never been an overly patient person, at least not as much as he let anyone see. As a child, before Freeza had come and torn everything apart, he had actually learned quite a bit about waiting from his father. Warrior race or not, diplomacy could be a necessity. It was something Vegeta still relied on, occasionally, though he had found most opponents responded much better to a fist through the chest.

Then there was Goku. The last person anyone would think would have patience. After all, he would get antsy so easily. Yet, he could also sit in the forest, dead still for hours and just drink in the energy of the world around him. He had sat there and listened to Goten babble about what each kid at his school smelled like and wore and ate for a good several hours. He would lie on the grass outside with Gohan and the two would star gaze with nary anything to entertain them save one another's company and be totally content.

This was so different.

Each tap of the man's fingers on that keyboard made Goku wince.

Each low 'hmm' made Vegeta bit down a caustic demand to inform them what was going on.

Each time he rose to get paper or files or to call one of his assistants, Bulma would stiffen and ChiChi would hold her breath.

Finally, after more minutes and hours than anyone cared to recall, the man closed his laptop. "This is unprecedented."

Goku blinked. "Uh…what?"

Bulma demanded, "Don't tell us that, just tell us what it is!"

"Well, that's a bit of an issue, Mrs. Briefs." The doctor looked from parent to parent, nervously. "I still cannot isolate what is causing it but I can tell you that from the comparisons I am getting, whatever it is, is silencing genes."

Standing like a bullet shot from a gun, Bulma demanded, "What?"

"That is the only explanation I can find. Your husband is correct; the Saiyan body appears to be a master of adaption. Whatever this…illness is…it's turning their bodies against them. It's turning off genes that help them process food, help them digest and then leaving others on. Then, almost just as quickly, the genes it turned off are reactivating and new ones are shutting off." He frowned. "It's almost…deliberate."

"How so?" Vegeta's voice, while cold and hard, was more inquisitive than anything else.

"Well, take the digestion." The man offered. "The genes that activate early saliva production and preparation at smell are still working fine. When I ran the tests on you and Mr. Son, I found that you Saiyans coat your food in a special enzyme before it even leaves your mouth. That enzyme triggers the body to absorb much faster and much more than a human would. The gene that produces that enzyme is turned off right now. But, every time your sons try to eat, after the body rejects the food because it lacks the enzyme, that gene turns back on once they've vomited up any nutrients they might have had and the body is…essentially…trying to eat itself." He rubbed his temples. "I cannot make hide nor hair of it."

ChiChi felt her heart race "Something is playin' with these genes and making their own bodies their enemy?"

"That is a very simplistic interpretation but yes. And it is not a fast method. It is slow, measured—"

"It's making them suffer." Vegeta spoke very clearly, sharply. "Whatever this bastard illness, engineered disease is, it is designed to make them suffer."

Bulma spoke out, "So now what? You said you still can't find anything causing it? Nothing? No nanobots, no genetic mutation, nothing?"

He lowered his head, "I..am truly sorry but there is nothing to find."

Rather than crumble as ChiChi looked close to doing, Bulma shifted right to Goku, "So, it has to be somethin' ki-related then. If the doctors can't find it then we…Goku?"

The Saiyan had not said a word and was just watching his son sleep. He looked from Gohan to Goten and back again. "So…they're going to starve?" It was ChiChi that spoke out for her husband. "You can't make those genes turn back on?"

"It's not that simple."

"Hey Doc." It was Goku now, calm, oddly and still. "You said that Saiyan bodies make that…enie?"

"Enzyme." He provided. "Yes. It seems to be a coating that allows the body to absorb and process the nutrients. Looks like it's created in the mouth when you begin to chew or move food about and—"

Out of nowhere, Goku reached out, took one of the stale pieces of bread sitting on the many trays that had been carried in here and bit into it, hard and fast. He chewed and gnawled and after a moment, Vegeta suddenly rushed to do the same.

There was no sound outside of the chewing and grinding of teeth.

Goku pulled Gohan up, just a bit and gently patted his cheek. Gohan, ever obedient, opened his eyes, "Dad?"

Goku reached into his mouth, removed the partially chewed bread and pushed it into his son's mouth.

Bulma covered her mouth in disgust and ChiChi turned slightly green.

Vegeta, though less kind about it than Goku (okay, a 'Wake up, boy. Eat!') was probably kind for him and did the same thing with Trunks.

If the boys were disgusted by it, they didn't show it. Maybe too much shock but…

When they swallowed, it stayed down.

Goku eyed the doctor. "If my sons' bodies can't do it, then I'll do it for them." He turned to his wife, "I think that ki thing is our best bet. ChiChi, we need to get Piccolo."


	7. Chapter 7

Videl leaned back, frowned, and crossed her arms. The platter of food and drink in front of her was half eaten but despite her rumbling stomach, she couldn't focus on it. The long weekend had ended and she, Sharpner and Erasa had headed to the nearby parlor after school and all but attacked the ice cream, candy and sodas. Videl, as per usual, went for a more savory treat in addition to the sweet.

"Videl, you're going to eat that right?"

Scoffing at Sharpner, she pushed her plate towards him "Go ahead."

Erasa, having a bit more tact, asked, "What's wrong? You're worried." It was a statement not a question and rather than waste her time arguing, Videl gave a nod of acknowledgement. Erasa jumped on it. "About Gohan?"

"You know how he is about school." Everyone knew how Gohan was about school; it was almost obsessive. "He's didn't come today and he didn't even call me."

Erasa smiled, a little bit of her sneaky, curious, intervening smile. "Would he?"

"…yes." Despite the awkwardness of admitting it, Videl set the blond haired girl with her best glare. "Yes, he would have."

There was unspoken understanding that no more was to be said. As for Videl though, her mind refused to quiet. She meant what she had said; Gohan would have called her if he wasn't going to be at school but nothing. Not even a text.

She heaved a loud sigh and Erasa eyed her. "Well, why don't you call him?"

"You think I haven't tried?" She countered. "He doesn't answer." She looked down at her phone as if it would provide an explanation.

That sent a lot of thoughts through her mind that she had been pondering throughout the school day. None of them were pleasant and she was not going to indulge them. She absolutely refused to indulge them. She would not—after all, he was Gohan. What could have taken him down?

"Could the signal be out? He lives in the middle of nowhere." Sharpner's suggestion invaded her thoughts and she couldn't help but be a smidge irritated. She knew that Erasa and Sharpner were only doing what they thought was helpful but none of it was.

"No. Papa and I made the phone on the Satan Network for that reason. So even all the way out there, they would have signal."

Again, she glared at her phone, defying it to leave her in the dark any longer. It still remained silent and she didn't want to think about the fact that neither Goku or ChiChi had answered when she had called either. Maybe Goku would not be likely to but…surely ChiChi would have?

Erasa's hand suddenly on her shoulder made her jump a little. "Videl, if you're so worried why don't you drop by and see?"

Worried? No. No, she wasn't utterly worried…not horribly. Not more so than a friend would be. Maybe she was just more in tune with everything? It wouldn't be the first time. It sometimes seemed like she was the only one with any sense.

Yet, she couldn't argue the logic. If she wanted answered and wasn't getting them then to go out and take them was certainly her usual method.

"Without notice?" Videl usually didn't consider that a big deal but she knew ChiChi was big on manners and she certainly didn't want to get on her potential future mother-in-no! No! What the heck was she thinking?!

Mrs. Son! Mrs. Son's bad side! She didn't want to get on MRS. SON'S bad side!

"Well, none of them are answering their phones. Come with food or something." Sharpner offered. "Tell 'em you were worried."

That was an idea though; food seemed to be an acceptable offering in that family at any time of day or for any occasion. If she had learned enough from Gohan, then sweets like chocolate were particularly favored. They didn't get them very often out there.

"Well, maybe I just might do that."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Under most cases, Piccolo would have responded to that kind of demand with a snarky response of his own but he hadn't the heart. That was not something he got to say much, given he was usually perfectly content with being blunt and forward.

Seeing Gohan like he was though cooled his hot head and he eyed ChiChi with something akin to pity. "I mean I don't know. Do I look like a doctor?" He couldn't fathom why they had dragged him here in the first place but seeing the dire straits that the half Saiyans were in, he couldn't say he would not be grasping at the barest chance himself.

"No." Vegeta scoffed, arms folded though he had planted himself by his son, who was at least awake now. Not strong enough to complain and Vegeta never thought he would be begging to hear the brat whine, but it was an improvement. Those damn doctors had been all but useless. The fact that it was Kakarrot of all people that made use of the little information they provided said that much. "But don't you have that blasted Kami in you?"

Piccolo scowled at the Saiyan. "It doesn't work that way." But this DID make sense. It at least explained why ChiChi had called him down from his hovering near Capsule Corp (no, he was NOT keeping an eye on it because he felt Gohan's ki so low) with all the passion of someone seeking a miracle. Oh course Goku would think he could just call Piccolo and ask to talk to Kami.

"Then how DOES it work?"

The Namekian scowled at Bulma and retorted, "It's not that I have two or three people inside of me. It isn't that simple. I am the Namek that I was before Kami and Piccolo separated. When Nail fused with me, he became me. He's no longer separate. They're all…me. I know ki but no more than any of you." He didn't feel like adding that Goku probably knew more than most. He didn't blame them for seeking him out though; after all, Goku always had a strong admiration for all his old teachers and Kami had taught him a lot about meditation and focus. Goku applied all that to his use of ki; of all of them, he had the most insight despite his belief otherwise.

Goten half sat up, even while ChiChi insisted that he lay back down. "What about Mr. Popo? Doesn't he know a lot?"

Piccolo nodded "He does but in this case, not what we need." He scowled and it took much of his willpower not to go and stand right next to Gohan. He settled instead for keeping a sharp eye on the doctors that were eyeing his student like he was a lab rat. Much as Piccolo felt that tail coming back was more curse than anything, Gohan was attached to it—physically and mentally—so he was going to make sure that no doctor made the mistake of seeing it as an experiment. "He knew a lot when he trained your father—"

"Mr. Popo trained you, Daddy?" Goten interrupted, trembling a bit with fever. He was pretty sure that he had heard such a thing when he and Trunks were training with Piccolo but it was hard to focus on much right now. He didn't feel quite as bad as before but it was still hard to really put much thought into anything. Even his memories from the battle with Buu were feeling fuzzy and he swore that those events would stay crystal clear until his death…well, his permanent death.

Goku offered a smile, approached and set his hand on the boy's cheek. "Stay down, little buddy. And yep, he sure did. Him and Kami—"

"Who's Kami?" Goten demanded again but he did oblige and slip back to the mattress, letting his head flop onto the pillow. It was cool and that felt good on his skin. "Is he like Dende?"

A low groan came from Gohan's bed and while he didn't lift his head, he said, "He had Dende's job before Dende."

"Oh…" Goten seemed satisfied with that and ChiChi leaned over, kissing his head.

"Enough questions for now, sweetie. Your brother needs to sleep and so do you." The half Saiyan boy shifted his sights over to his brother and sure enough, he was curled on his side, sweat coating his brow and that new tail he now had was curled under the blankets.

"How come Big Brother gets a tail and I don't? I wanna tail."

Goku chuckled, lightly and lay his hand back on the boy's temple, pushing just a little bit of warm ki into the pressure points. "Same reason you have the energy of ten kids and he doesn't. Born that way. Now relax."

The transfer of ki was always an odd experience but for a little boy nearly running on empty, it might as well have been a sleeping pill. He shifted, closed his eyes and within a few minutes, he slept.

ChiChi eyed her husband and expressed a small bit of envy for those abilities. "So who do we turn to?" She demanded after a moment. She wet a cloth and set it on his forehead. Goten shifted lightly at the invasion but beyond that, made no other protests.

"King Kai?" Goku spoke out simply. "I learned the Spirit Bomb from him but isn't this different? I mean, it's not gathering ki. It's somethin' else."

Piccolo set his sights on the Saiyan. "If anyone knows, it would be him."

ChiChi turned from her position next to Goten, "Can you lock onto King Kai, Goku?"

The Saiyan frowned, stepped away and set his fingers to his forehead. Focusing took more time than it usually took but after a moment, his eyes lit up and he grinned, "I got 'em!" He stopped, just prior to disappearing and eyed Piccolo.

"Watch my kiddos until I get back, okay, Piccolo?"

Without waiting for a response, the air pulsed and he was gone. The Namek still gave a nod in response.

* * *

King Kai had grown used to Goku showing up randomly. It had simply become a matter of the life he lived. Even the other Kais had come to accept it though that never stopped them from complaining. Tonight though, King Kai had them nearly beat in a bet, one that he had lost many a time before.

Tonight was his night!

So, naturally, now was the time when Goku would elect to show up unannounced.

Instant Transmission was, without a doubt, the most bothersome technique.

"King Kai!" There was energy to his greeting that everyone noticed if they had cause to pay attention. The other Kais took full advantage to cheat the round North Kai out of his winning hand, amid his squawking protest.

"Goku!" The small man turned, eyes narrowed. "Don't you ever call ahead?"

"How?" came the sharp answer. "You don't have a phone."

"Well…still, you could warn somebody." He insisted as he straightened up. "I'm about ready to beat these saps—"

"Dream on, North Kai." East Kai grinned widely, pushing her hair from her face. "I've already taken—"

"King Kai, we need to talk, now."

The group of Kai set the Saiyan with a dark look, almost in complete unison. It used to be that they were revered, respected and in some cases even feared. North Kai's student Son Goku had broken the mold on that entirely. Even now, he hardly was addressing them with reverence, more like annoyed frustration.

Their distaste for this interaction style had not been lost on North Kai in his time here.

Plus, he was winning and he was NOT about to let them get away with cheating him! Goku at least owed him that. After all, he DID use his home as a detonation mark for Cell! A poker game as payment was far less than he SHOULD have charged him.

The small round Kai ignored the Saiyan for the moment and set his eyes, grinning like a cat at the other three Kai. "In a minute, Goku. This loss for South Kai has been comin—"

The table full of cards, coins, tokens and was suddenly thrown upward and scattered about the floor, with shouts and yelps from the other Kais being a chaotic jumble of protests. North Kai lost his grip on his own cards and whirled on his student.

Any protest he had died on his lips.

He had seen a Super Saiyan Goku, he had seen his son reach Super Saiyan Two and the absolute monster that was Super Saiyan Three would haunt him for years. Combining Vegeta and Goku together into Vegetto was a nightmare in an of itself.

None of those compared to that look. The look that was looking through him and engulfing him, all in the same motion. It was cold and hot, all at once but King Kai, the Kai of the North Galaxy, feared for himself at that moment. It was a fear that he did not recall being exposed to before. He had heard Goku talk about his son and his wife when he had been training and every time he spoke to him, at least one member of his family popped into the conversation.

Looking at Goku now, the air around him nearly alight with his fury, Goku spoke and his voice was deep, full of conviction and made the other Kai swiftly exit the room. "****We need to speak NOW, King Kai****."

"…right, right, okay, okay." King Kai stood up, left the remains of the game where the Saiyan had turned the table over and approached his former student. "You really should have more respect for us Kais, Goku."

"This is about my kids," Goku said simply. "I don't have time to let you squabble."

The Kai of the North's face turned serious at that statement. "Which kid? Gohan or Goten?"

"Both. And Trunks too. So, unless you want me to drag Vegeta up here with me to convince you that this is important—"

"Not necessary, not necessary!"

"Good." Goku looked down at his former teacher, eyes still blazing a bit but he forced his voice to calm, his muscles to unclench. "Because I need answers and my kids don't have a lot of time."

The air was heavy, nearly suffocating but the small blue man could not help but feel hjis heart wrench. Goku's ki was full of fear, not an emotion the Saiyan was known for embracing very often. Even in the heat of a battle, Goku usually drifted to excitement not fear.

But there was fear now. With the distraction of the other Kai gone and Goku's voice now sounding less like a death gong, the little Kai could hear it. It was deeply engrained in every word that the Saiyan said. An odd feeling and situation-Goku being afraid. King Kai admitted that he had a hard time wrapping his head around it.

"What about your kids?"

"They're sick." Goku answered simply and he flopped onto the ground, as if all the energy had fled his bones. It was a bit like seeing a marionette with its strings cut. King Kai had seen a lot of things during the eons as North Kai but he was convinced that nothing was more heart wrenching than a depressed Son Goku.

"And it's not normal sick." The Saiyan went on and his face looked less angry and more desperate the longer he spoke, "None of that stuff that makes people sick…they don't have any of that. But they're not eatin'..they can't eat." He looked up and there was complete and utter terror in those eyes. "My kids are DYING, King Kai!"

Well, that certainly explained his ferocity.

"Bulma called in these doctors to do tests and stuff but they can't find nothing! There's nothing wrong with their bodies except they're turning on themselves. So, we thought…maybe it's a ki thing? Can ki do that?"

King Kai blinked once then twice. "A ki illness? Well, it's not unheard of…"

"So can you help my kids?!"

"Slow down, Goku!" King Kai let some bite reenter his voice. "This is going to take some time." He sat next to the Saiyan. "Now, tell me in detail, what is going on with them?"

* * *

"Papa?"

Vegeta paused in mid step, turning on his heel.

Trunks hadn't lifted his head, hell, the boy likely couldn't but Vegeta had also made it quite clear that even if the boy could move, he was not to do so, under any circumstances. Goten had already demonstrated a lack of ability to listen and ChiChi had finally had to take on a firm voice with him, something the Saiyan Prince knew she was loathe to do with the boys weak and frail. It was foolish to him but he did not see the point in raising a fuss with her.

Still, the call from his son was enough to pause his steps and he turned, approached, though he did not touch the boy. It seemed so much easier to be what the woman liked to call 'comforting' when the boy was asleep. With him awake, Vegeta found himself much more reluctant though his voice lost its sharp edge when he spoke.

"You need to be resting, boy."

"Am." Trunks insisted. "But tell me the truth, Papa."

"Since when have I ever lied to you—"

"Am I gonna die?"

It was a simple question and less than a year ago, the Saiyan Prince would not have hesitated in answering in the affirmative. It was the pure logic of situation. Yet, now, with the battle with Buu behind them and feeling a bit more…at ease…with the family role he had found himself in, his words burned to ash in his mouth.

Anger came next.

"Why are you letting such foolish thoughts enter your mind? You're my blood. Do you think I am so weak to let illness take me over?" That was likely not the best response and he saw that damn Namekian roll his eyes. Not his fault that the woman and Kakarrot's woman had stepped out to get coffee and tea. He was simply not good at this! "Do you think us that easily conquered, boy?"

"..No but I'm not just you." That was said softly, without much convection and that frightened Vegeta more than he cared to admit.

"No. You are also your mother's blood and that damn woman is more dangerous than half the alien races I have extinguished. You are a rare mix, boy. It is not easily conquered."

__Would not be conquered.__

__Could not be conquered.__

The boy went quiet again but his ki was unsteady, uneasy. Vegeta could smell the fear on him and that just made him more angry, more anxious, more…well, more of a lot of emotions that he didn't quite feel comfortable naming.

"What made you think of that?" Again, why was he bothering? Why did it matter? Vegeta found himself silent and waiting for the boy's response just the same though. "What put that thought in your head?"

Trunks half shrugged, as much as one could while lying down. "I'm not dumb. Gohan knows it and the doctors aren't really doing much. When you all were talkin' with Mom and them outside, I heard the doctors saying that we're more research than anything."

Vegeta saw red. "You are NOT a Guinea pig."

"I am to them. They don't think they can save us, Papa. They just wanna use us to get data and stuff-"

Vegeta was out of the room before the boy even finished. He did not stop when he plowed through Bulma and ChiChi returned and he ignored Bulma's shout after him and her inquiry about what was wrong.  
He kept going, strong and steady strides until he reached the small room that those doctors had been using. They jumped at his entrance and rightly so but before any of them could get a word in, Vegeta's hand was around the largest one's throat.

"My son is not a test subject. My son is not for you to 'expand your knowledge.'" He tightened his grip and the man gasped, lightly, bringing his hands to just above Vegeta's grip, trying in vain to loosen it. The Saiyan set his eyes from one doctor to the next, to the next, and then finally back to his choking victim.

Letting the familiar rush of green take his eyes, Vegeta squeezed, a bit tighter and brought their faces close enough to touch. "You were brought here for a simple purpose—save my son's life or I'll take yours."

* * *

"So…you know about this but you can't help?!"

King Kai let out a heavy sigh. "I'm outta practice, okay?" He stood and when Goku stood as well, he reinterated. "It's a spiritual attack, Goku, on the plane where ki moves and interacts. The Kai know about it but we aren't experts at it. You know wood makes a house—could you build one?"

"I did." Goku said with a pout. "Built onto our capsule house myself. Ox King helped some."

The small blue God groaned and rested his hand to his forehead. "Missing the point, Goku! Just because I know something's there doesn't mean I know how to navigate it or deal with it!"

"But you're a Kai!" Goku rose in protest a bit off the ground. "Aren't you supposed to know this stuff?!"

"A ki-based spiritual attack isn't exactly on our usual fare of expected problems." The smaller creature scowled.

Goku lost the air under his feet and crashed back to the ground. "But…if you can't help them, then who can?"

The Kai crossed his arms "Well, you could look on Earth. You earthlings can be a little slow but when it comes to Ki, you are more advanced than most of the galaxy. You need someone that understands the ki realm, the way it moves spiritually." He paused, thinking of a way to phrase it. "You need someone that has mastered the Ajna chakra, Goku."

For the first time since he arrived, something akin to hope lit Goku's face. "The third eye chakra…Tien."


	8. Chapter 8

"So where is the damned fool?"

Goku scowled at Vegeta. "Look, it's not his fault that he isn't here right now. I didn't call any of the others." He paused, thought for a moment that maybe he should—Krillin was probably going to be livid that Goku didn't call for him the minute he knew—but then pressed on. "But now we just have to find Tien. Maybe he can help us out!"

Bulma moved from her spot next to Trunks though with a 'stay there' to her son. "So, where is Tien? He isn't exactly the easiest guy to get ahold of."

"Might try the rocky…place…where we found Buu."

Goku turned and set his eldest with his best glare which, given that the entire room was practically alight with tension, was quite impressive. "Gohan, you're not gonna get better if you don't rest. I know I don't gotta tell you that."

"Important though…" He started again and then fell quiet again, closing his eyes and leaning against the pillow. He hated being this weak, this fragile and he needed to do something. His brother couldn't. Trunks couldn't and that meant he HAD to. "Tien showed up…during that battle and…"

"Stop." The command in that voice would have stopped an army. Goku reached over and put his fingers over Gohan's mouth. "I said stop, son. I appreciate the help but stop. I've known Tien a long time, I think I can find him. YOU can rest."

Goten turned a bit, shifting on the bed in the brief period of stop in conversation, "Daddy—"

Goku put his hands on his hips, realized he looked just like his wife when she went into scolding mode and shifted to cross his arms across his chest instead. "You too, Goten? I swear you boys are the worst patients in the world. Sleep, Rest."

"But…" The boy spoke out again, "Daddy, are you gonna go look for Tien? Can you stop at home?"

That caught the Saiyan off guard. "Huh?"

"Stop at home." The boy's face burned so bright red it was nearly an apple. "Maybe bring me Icarus?"

The room was quiet for a moment until Goku's face melted and he knelt, gently ruffling his youngest's hair. "I think we can manage that. Long as it's not lost until that pile of clothes in your room."

"Uh uh," the boy insisted with a slight head shake, "It's next to the bed."

"Okay, THAT is a reasonable request, I can do that." Standing up, he turned to Vegeta. "I'll go grab that for Goten then we can start combing the countryside. Tien would avoid the cities. You gonna help, Vegeta?" He turned, "Piccolo?"

The green Namekian nodded but he cast a disapproving and threatening gaze to the doctors who had been working feverishly over the paperwork, research and looking at the boys' vital signs ever since Vegeta had taken a 'moment' with them.

"Are we clear that you idiots are to not poke and prod or draw blood without the boys' permission?" He finally stated, looking at the three human men. It was a domino effect and the remaining adults in the room followed his gaze.

Put on the spot, the most senior of the group, Doctor Netsu, cleared his throat. "It is understood but we still feel that more—"

"You don't touch them." Goku's tone left no room for argument and while he didn't take a step towards them, he _may_ have let his eyes shift to green, with small fragments of lighting, if only for a moment. "Unless my wife okays it, you don't touch them, don't poke them, don't do anything to them without her saying so, got it?"

Vegeta folded his arms, "My…declaration remains as it was." That was all he would say but that was all he needed to say. The three doctors exchanged looks but then nodded in agreement. "Understood, we will focus on the information we have already gathered…"

Turning, Vegeta set eyes on Trunks.

The boy was awake, again, listening but Vegeta really didn't know how much he was hearing. While the additional food they'd been able to get into him helped, that golden glow had not faded. The boy was still. He was quiet. He wasn't making quips or statements or sarcastic remarks.

Vegeta didn't like it. That wasn't his son. That wasn't his son at all and damn the emotions it was pouring through him. They had a goal now. They had a potential answer. They had a means of action.  
His son being this weak could not—would not-last much longer.

The boy was strong. He'd been stronger than Kakarot's brat before and he would be now.

No, the fact that Kakarot's brats were talking and his was not did NOT bother him because it meant nothing. It was happenstance, nothing more and nothing less and damn it, he was NOT afraid.

Angry, furious but not afraid.

"Go, Kakarot. Call those idiotic friends of yours. If they can sense ki, they're useful."

"If Tien isn't keeping it suppressed like he likes to do," Gohan remarked.

"Sleep." ChiChi spoke out this time. "Let your father and us worry about that. You worry about sleepin'." She turned to Goku. "Call them, Goku. Call Krillin, 18, Yamcha, anyone you know that could help. You think Tien can help them?"

"I don't know but he's our best shot." Goku admitted. "The others'll help, I know they will."

"Then go."

OOO

No one was here.

Videl should probably have just left at that but she couldn't see herself doing that. Something felt…off. It wasn't something she could put her finger on. It was something beyond her normal senses, like when Gohan taught her to fly. Something she felt but could not identify.

The house had been left unlocked so even though she probably shouldn't have, she'd gone inside, dropping a basket of cheeses, fruits and meats on the table. She could see the remains of cut up fruits and waters and put out fires but nothing beyond that. Going upstairs and towards the bedrooms had shown abandoned cots and blankets but nothing else. Nothing that told her anything.

Thus, here she was, pacing the patch of land by the house where the start of a field was. Gohan had mentioned it to her that his family was getting ready to start planting. She could see the start of the plowing the field. It had been stopped half way through. It was hard for her to fathom being so dependent on something like this. But, the insistence that Gohan had preached about how important it was and now Goku and ChiChi were trying to help their kids and…well, maybe she could help a little bit.

After all, it was likely that Goku and ChiChi had taken the boys to a doctor, wasn't it? Maybe she could lend a hand while she waited for them.

Maybe she could just leave but she didn't feel right doing that. She wanted to at least ask if there was something she could do…

Shaking her head, Videl set her eyes on a hoe that was propped nearby (and was reminded that Gohan and his father were both ridiculously tall) but she adjusted her grip and set to work on the ground.  
Maybe it had already been tenderized or something like that but it gave very easy under her blows. Gohan _had_ told her that she was a lot stronger than she thought she was but she had never thought much on it, beyond realizing her father was more shout than substance.

As she continued to work on the ground, it occurred to her that there was an odd peace associated with it. Not the work itself but just the silence. The sincerity and simplicity of it. It wasn't something she would have ever considered less than a year ago but Gohan had shown her that simple things were sometimes the best things.

Maybe she would take him up on that offer of showing him around the mountain when he got better. Because, of course, he would be alright. It was probably just a bug that he'd never encountered before. That was all.

He would be alright.

He had to be alright.

So caught up was she in her thoughts, in her work that the sudden displacement of air behind her set her senses on trigger. Without stopping to think much on it—nor that only one person that she knew of could even DO that—she swung her hoe up and around like an axe, where it neatly embedded itself in Goku's forehead.

"Ayie!" Goku immediately clamped his hands around the tool and pulled uoward, having it pop from the flesh. A throbbing bruise was left in its wake though it did not appear to have broken the skin.

Videl wasn't sure if that surprised her or humored her. "Mr. Son-eh, Goku!"

Rubbing his flesh a moment more, Goku shifted his eyes, "Eh, Videl, what was that for?!"

"You scared me!" She retorted, as if that was an explanation for all things.

Goku blinked. "Didn't mean to. Wasn't expecting you to be here…why ARE you here?"

Suddenly put on the spot, her mouth went a little drier than she liked and heat attacked her neck. "Well, I hadn't…heard from Gohan and I wanted to see…how he was." That had sounded a lot better in her head. "So, I thought I'd stop by and just see…how things were."

The Saiyan father gave her a grateful smile. "You're a good friend to him Videl…and maybe a little more than a friend?" There was a slight tease to his voice though there was not his usual rambunctiousness to the tone. "Or am I wrong?"

"No, we just…we're just…" She trailed off and swiftly altered the statement. "How is he? Is he with the doctor?"

Goku's face soured. "Not doing very well. Goten either. I stopped by to pick up somethin' for Goten and then I'm headin' back. It's not a simple illness. It's something to do with ki."

"Can I help? What's wrong with him?" She was full of fire again and grasped hold of Goku's front. "Tell me what I can do!"

Goku set his hands on hers and gently disentangled her hands from his shirt. "Ya can come with me, Videl. Maybe you can help keep him in that bed. He and his brother are really bad about that."

"Whatever I can do, Goku, name it."

OOO

Bulma stood for a moment and stretched. She took a quick survey of the room. The doctors, under threats from all parents present, had not tried to approach the boys, though she still saw one of them looking at Gohan like he was piece of meat—all over that silly tail—and looked almost like a bunch of bunnies gathered behind their computers for salvation.

ChiChi had not left her boys' side. Bulma saw it and she knew CHiChi had noticed…the way that Goten's hair was starting to shift, to gradually take on the Super Saiyan formation even though the color had not yet come.

It was frightening.

Trunks still hadn't lost Super Saiyan though at least he had not gone any higher. If the doctors' theories were correct and so far, they seemed to be, then if he got much worse, he could potentially climb the ladder. The thought of her son's body being so in need for strength it would push beyond that Super Saiyan level made her heart ache.

Vegeta was silent, sitting next to Trunks, just staring at him. He hardly even seemed aware of anyone else in the room. He didn't respond to Piccolo discussing potential causes with ChiChi (questions about someone wanting to get at Goku again, perhaps) and didn't say anything to the doctors babbling. He just…sat there, eyes never leaving Trunks.

It was unnerving. Almost like when she had come home and first found Trunks sick.

Waiting for Goku was hard but watching Vegeta so melancholy and so focused was even harder.

Hence, Bulma didn't think she was entirely out of her right when she shouted as Vegeta reached over and plucked a hair from her son's head. Trunks gave a low yelp and rubbed the spot but he didn't say anything else in protest.

Bulma did though.

"Vegeta! What the hell was that for?"

If he heard her—and she KNEW he did—he ignored her, stood to his full height and walked out of the room. Bulma was left, standing there, amid ChiChi's flabbergasted exclamations as well.

Turning finally, Bulma looked to her friend, "ChiChi, can you…"

A warm response as ChiChi shifted her chair a bit and lay a hand on Trunks' back. "I'll mind him, Bulma. See what THAT was about."

"I intend to. That's odd, even for Vegeta."

With nothing else said, though she set a warning gaze on the doctors again about not trrying anything sneaky (she doubted they would with both ChiChi and Piccolo there), the human woman rushed out in to the hall and stormed after her husband.

He wasn't in his usual spot, nor any of his usual locations, including the gravity room and it was only the faint heat from outside that finally led her to one of the inner gardens. She was as noisy as she could be approaching him because she had learned a long time ago that while sneaking up on a Saiyan was nearly impossible, if you did achieve it, you almost always ended up unconscious for your trouble.

"Vegeta?"

The Saiyan Prince was standing up straight before what looked like a very small fire. Probably started by his ki, given how precise it was. At closer glance, she noticed he had a simple pendant in his hand. It took her a moment before she realized it was the Saiyan Royal Crest Pendant.

Vegeta had told her about it once and when he had spoken to Trunks about it. Apparently, Freeza had returned it to him, made some big deal about it being "all that was left" of his father. But Vegeta had never thought greatly about his father so what was…

_"Kasa, ma inkela enka. Ma setre defa. Ma enca inkela—Turnka Vegeta III, enca ma enca."_

Then without warning, he tossed the pendant into the fire and fired a blast at it, sending the small disc into miniscule pieces.

"Vegeta! What did you do…"

The Saiyan Prince finally turned and looked at her. There was a faint color to his cheeks, as if she had caught him doing something unsightly.

"Vegeta?" She inquired again. "I know it has something to do with Trunks. That was his Saiyan name, wasn't it? Vegeta the Third?"

The Saiyan scoffed but after a moment, he relented. "It was a silly superstition but if anything on this planet has taught me it is that superstitions are sometimes rooted in truth, foolish as they can seem."

Bulma leaned herself against his side. "And this superstition?"

Again, he delayed in answering and for a time, it almost seemed like she wouldn't get an answer. "The strength of the Saiyan race is unmatched. Even when we pass on, miniscule amounts linger in…important artifacts." He didn't take his eyes off the fire. "My father was weak, I was far stronger than him before I was Trunks' age. And he was a damned fool. But sometimes even a little strength one way or another will turn a battle, as that damned Kakarott has used to his effect all too often." He scoffed and looked upward, "The little bit that might have been in that medallion is now in our son, or so the stories say."

Bulma didn't say a word, she just stood there, leaning on Vegeta's side. The Saiyan Prince did not shove her off.

**TRANSLATIONS**

Kasa, ma inkela enka. Ma setre defa. Ma enca inkela—Turnka Vegeta III, enca ma enca.-Father, surrender/give your strength to build the strength of my child. Your usefulness/task is done. Surrender your strength to build the strength of a child-Trunks, Vegeta the Third, the child of your child.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry so much for the long wait; this chapter was a real pain

OOO

Chapter Nine: Defenses

"I don't like this. We were hired to do a job."

"Yes, yes and we will but I think it is foolish not to have our data backed up. That is something any amateur always does. And with what we have in front of us right now…to not act on it would be an egregious error."

"But we don't have permission to take the information. We didn't offer that, we only offered to seek out a cure, reasoning behind this sickness." There was a pregnant pause. "We never said that we would take their genetics for research. We never said we would…explore…reactions. That is a direct violation—"

"I am aware but you must also be aware that ethics are forever changing. Do you think it was ethical how we first discovered the method of vaccination? It would have ended with numerous people imprisoned if done today and yet we applaud those doctors and researchers!"

"That's not the same as this."

"It is more than close enough!" The voice dropped and silence reigned. The eyes never left the door. The room where the sick lay was not far away and it was in their favor that they were all but kicked out back to their research lab. "The information in those cells is priceless! I spoke with…the cranky one…and the type of advances studying those cells could give us is beyond measure!"

"…they aren't even full alien…or whatever those men are."

"All the better. They are half, mixed with human." There was a shuffling of papers. "That means that there is a method to apply those genetic factors to humanoid specimens. The three boys in that room are living proof of it."

"I don't like it. It's not right."

"You'd do well to lose that soft backbone, Rinri. You are a doctor and that means you are a scientist. A scientist is always learning and to learn, we sometimes must push past what society says is correct for what will benefit us all."

"But at the cost of children? What you're suggesting isn't just stealing personal information, it's turning children into lab rats."

"They are likely beyond saving at this point. You have seen the test results. The body is destroying itself. There is not much to be done at that point aside from making the individual comfortable. Regardless of what the loud one—"

"I believe his name is Vegeta."

"-Regardless of what Vegeta says, at some point, we have to accept that all we can do is see what we can learn from the situation. So, either work with me on it or leave."

"You're willing to try it? To risk it? As I recall, didn't …Vegeta…threaten you? Rather directly?"

"The two fathers are the ones in the way. So…let's give them something else to do."

"…still don't like it."

OOO

ChiChi exhaled deeply, looking at her two sleeping children. She could hear the strain in their breathing. It was hollow and made her wring her hands. They had not complained or seemed to worsen since Goku left but just the sound was enough to turn her stomach. Gohan hadn't even stirred when the machines would alert to their falling blood glucose levels. She needed Goku back so he could help their boys eat!

Oh, how ironic. It made her weary at heart. Her children were starving and their bodies were turning against them and despite her having carried them within her for months (almost ten and a half—thank you Saiyan biology) and struggling to feed them from just her own breasts and having to pull in formula to support their endless appetites and she could only sit here and feel utterly helpless. She could barely understand what all the computer screens and numbers meant, let alone be able to do anything to help.  
Piccolo had not moved from his position hovering between Goten and Gohan's beds and honestly, she was glad for it. She was not the biggest fan of Piccolo, despite his devotion to her family (seeing him tear Goku's body to shreds when they had barely been engaged was hard to push past) but it was nice to have him here, watching the boys with her. He never felt the need to engage in small talk so the utter silence was not so deafening.

The sharp intake of break sent the human woman to her feet in an instant. Piccolo's eyes opened from his meditative state and one of the many monitors in the room had begun to chant and chime with a shrill alarm. The stats on the screens jumped, darted about and ChiChi, again, cursed her inability to interpret them.

No real need to though as the reasoning became abundantly clear when Goten groaned, trembled and a moment later, his hair turned stiff and golden in color. The sheets gave under his grip with a loud tear.

Dropping to her knees next to the bed, ChiChi reached out a hand, pushing it through the warmth of his ki and pleading, "Baby, Mommy's right here. Calm down. Try to calm down." She took a glance back at Trunks, wincing even as she spoke. Much as she loved her sons, far more than anything else in the world, she was not a fool. Goten was strong, well trained but when it came to raw power and strength, Trunks was still a bit beyond him. If Trunks had not yet been able to break the Super Saiyan form, neither could Goten.

She chanced a glance at her eldest and found herself heaving a breath of relief that he had not engaged in a powered up form. Or at least not as far as she could tell. That 'Ultimate' form that he called it was a little hard to gauge sometimes.

ChiChi may have been reluctant and resistant of the forms that her husband and sons could take but that did not mean she was ignorant to it. Goku had explained it to her that the reason he had taken so long to return after Namek was to make sure he was in command of the form so he didn't accidentally hurt anyone he loved.

She had seen firsthand that even after he and Gohan had "mastered" Super Saiyan, it was still draining. Goku had told Gohan that he was not to stay Super Saiyan when he slept, even when the boy had asked if it might help. Oh, Goku had been fully against that.

And neither Goten or Trunks had learned to master Super Saiyan as a natural state.

Gazing at her youngest, breathing hard, back slightly arched, sweat beaded on his forehead, ChiChi bit deep into her lower lip and paused, just shy, of grasping his hand. Much as she wanted to, much as she wanted to squeeze him and promise him that it would be okay, if he startled awake, her little boy could—and likely would—crush her hand.

She hated feeling this helpless.

"Where are those damn doctors?"

OOO

"I tol' you I was sorry. I was distracted."

Krillin narrowed his eyes at Goku but given the circumstances, it probably wasn't best to argue it. Goku could be absentminded on the best of days. If you involved his children then, well, you simply were expected for him to forget the most basic of things.

"I know, I know. So, King Kai thinks Tien might be able to help?"

Goku nodded firmly as Videl stood a bit awkwardly next to him, holding the stuffed dragon that Goku had deemed was 'Icarus' and had been requested by Goten. It was a nice sentiment and she wondered, briefly, if Gohan used to have a favorite toy. Maybe she would ask him sometime if he recovered.

No, when. No If. When.

But the conversation of Krillin and Goku pierced her thoughts in a way that made her wide awake. A way to help. That name, Tien…wait…Tienshinhan…

"Wait, is that the same Tienshinhan that won the 22nd World's Martial Arts Tournament? The year before your win, Goku?" Her voice came out in a rush, sounding far more desperate than she wanted it to.

Both Krillin and Goku turned to look at her. "You know Tien?" Goku finally asked her.

Shaking her head, she corrected. "No. But Papa looked up on all the old victors of the Tournaments. He used to tell me about them when I was a little girl. We have a big book on them." She blinked suddenly, as if seeing Krillin for the first time. "Wait…that means you're Krillin, one of the semi-finalists?!"

Despite himself, Krillin laughed. "Well, what did you think I was, kiddo?'

She eyed him, considered a moment then said, "Well, when I first met you, I thought you were a monk. Because…well, these." She pointed to her forehead, indicating his burn marks. "But you have a family so…"

Krillin offered her a smile. "Well, you're not wrong. Not completely anyway. I was trained as one when I was a kid. I came to Master Roshi to perfect my training-" Krillin trailed off in thought, stopped in mid sentence then turned to Goku. "Wait! You said that it's a spiritual ki attack?"

Goku nodded, "That's what King Kai said. That's why we have to get Tien—"

Videl held up her phone. Krillin's statement had snapped her back to action. "I don't know if it'll help any but I'll see if Papa can help."

The Saiyan father didn't know if it would do any good. Tien was notoriously hard to find. He appreciated the thought nonetheless and gave her a small smile and nod in response. Maybe she was right. Mister Satan certainly had influence—long as he remembered to name drop him or one of the others, maybe it would do something. In any event, she was typing away at that phone like it was on fire.

But Goku had to admit, he was distracted by Krillin. Or more accurately, the tone in Krillin's voice. The feeling of his ki. While Krillin certainly was more rational than most of them, especially since he had started a family, this kind of emotion rarely cut through his spirit. "Krillin?"

The small man turned and looked at Videl for a moment, almost flabbergasted then said "She's right! I'm a monk. Or an ex-monk anyway. But I was still trained in it. Got the marks to prove it."

Goku was about to ask but Krillin interrupted him. "I dunno what I can do, Goku. I'm definitely not Tien but…maybe I can buffer something. If it's a spiritual ki attack, well," He narrowed his eyes. "That's what a _monk_ is for."


	10. Chapter 10

"And what does that do?"

Doctor Rinri swallowed hard and turned. That short, angry man was back, the blue haired woman at his side. Plus that green man kept looking at him as if he was debating the most painful way to extract his spine. It was as if they could smell deceit. Maybe they could; Rinri would be the first to admit that he could fill a book with what they didn't know on these people.

Trunks, the boy he was currently attending to, groaned lightly and rolled over, tucking his knees to his chest. The sweat on his forehead had a disturbingly red sheen. The boy was starting to sweat blood. Rinri bit his lower lip. He didn't care what species you were, usually blood needed to be kept inside the body to be of any use. And to see what was a small child literally sweating their sustenance through their pores was unnerving on every level.

But Netsu insisted that they needed to get what information they could. That even if they had to watch these three die, it was their duty—no, their right—to extract what they could to potentially save others. To gain what information they could, to test what they could.

"Mama..." the low groan was light, strained. The blue haired woman immediately dropped to her knees by his side, stroking his hair back. The golden glow didn't seem to hurt her or if it did, she made no remark to it. If Rinri had not known otherwise, he'd have thought it a normal mother and son.

Yet here he stood, ready to introduce a floodgate of pathogens just for a chance they might learn something.

This wasn't right.

"It...it's a dose of immune system boosters." Doctor Netsu spoke up. "We are having to be creative because of the inability of our needles to pierce the skin. Absorption is an option. We can do it either orally or rectally."

Vegeta's nostrils flared. "My son is of noble blood and you'll treat him as such."

Bulma glared at him, "Vegeta.."

"HOW do these immunoboosters work?" He asked darkly. "Especially on a system that has all but perfected it?"

Despite the unspoken accusation, Netsu stayed calm. "We are trying to give your son every advantage we can."

Piccolo spoke with deep conviction. "Against a spiritual enemy."

Netsu turned about, eyes blazing. "Spiritual is outside my realm of practice but surely you can agree that a strong body is much more capable of fending off an invader! Regardless of its matter of origin!"

Vegeta scoffed, sniffed. He didn't like the smell of that mixture. He was certainly no doctor, that much was certain but he had long ago learned to trust his instincts. A Saiyan survived by them.

"I will allow you to put that mixture in my heir," he stated firmly and with calculation "Once my Woman analyzes it." He turned and set ChiChi in particular with a look. "Do what you will with your brats but I don't trust it."

Bulma looked on him with surprise but opted not to say anything further. There was a quiet rage about Vegeta and she'd learned over the years that while his explosive anger was commonplace, his soft, stalking anger was to be avoided. It was made from a place of contemplation and Vegeta only took the energy to contemplate something if it was necessary.

She turned to the doctors and gave a nod of agreement. "That's fair; it won't take long."

Netsu looked like he might faint or scream. It was hard to tell. But he was certainly sweating. "Can we really afford such delays? I am one of the most advanced in my field—"

ChiChi stepped forward, "Are you? Bulma, is he an expert?" Maybe it was an odd thing to cling to but ChiChi had to cling to something. She didn't understand a lot of this but experience and expertise was something she relied on. After all, surely, people didn't go to school for years and years to be frauds, did they? That certainly wasn't what her Gohan was doing!

"Highest recommendation from the circle of researchers." But there was little gumption to Bulma's words.

The man having a PhD and having been called from a wide circle of experts should have made the Son matriarch feel at ease or at the very least, somewhat reassured. It certainly would have not all that long ago.

But now, with Piccolo giving a wayward gaze, her stomach felt uneasy and subconsciously, she shifted to stand between the doctors and their pathway to her children. The commotion had yet to wake either of them and while that was a relief for Goten, it worries her for Gohan. He slept lightly especially when stressed. The fact he wasn't moving was heart wrenching.

Oddly, despite her utter distain for the man, ChiChi found herself turning to Vegeta.

The Saiyan Prince regarded the frantic doctor with something akin to disgust—only deeper. As if the mere thought of being in close proximity to the man was sickening. After another moment or two, he answered the man's insistence on being an expert.

"That means nothing to me. If this planet has taught me anything, it's that these humans' ability to ascertain truth from lie leaves much to be desired." Vegeta cast a halfways look at Gohan with his statement and even without context, it was clear he would not be swayed. "My Woman clears it first."

Doctor Netsu shifted to ChiChi "Ma'am, I promise you, it is for the benefit of your children! It may give them the edge they need! And imagine if we were to waste a fraction of the time they need."

ChiChi narrowed her eyes. "You don't know Bulma very well. Ain't nobody faster than her and you ain't going to find better equipment with the King of the World himself." She gave a nod to Bulma. "Nothing goes in my sons until she clears it."

With grave reluctance, the man transferred the bag to Bulma.

OOO

"TIEN! Where ARE you?"

To anyone passing by, it would have looked nearly humorous—Goku was flying from tree to shrub you any potential clearing, calling out his old friend's name. He'd taken Gohan's suggestion and gone to where the battle against Buu had taken place but he was getting nothing. No ki, no noise, no voice, no response.

It was disheartening. His sons didn't have this kinda time!

"TIEN! C'mon! I needa talk to you!"

Nothing.

Goku pouted, lightly, folded his arms. He'd looked everywhere he could look here. If Tien was around, he was purposely staying hidden. Made no sense to continue here. Move on, search somewhere else.

So, that's what he did. Starting eastward, he flew even as rocks turned to grass and mountain. Dropping down into the new landscape, he took a moment to gather his bearings then started his procedure all over again—ki seeking, looking, shouting, pushing aside boulder, tree and shrub. If he found a lake, he even dove in to seek there, despite knowing the chances of finding Tien underwater was pretty much slim to none. If there was a fraction of a chance that he might, he would try.

Nothing.

Goku flopped down, arms spread on his back and let the animals observe him a moment. He was dangerously close to panicking and everyone knew that never ended well. That certainly wouldn't find Tien and it would not help his kids either.

Goku was not used to feeling helpless but he was very much bordering on that emotion far more than was comfortable! He was used to tackling a problem head on. This wasn't something he could attack and as much as he had faith in Krillin, even the monk himself had said he could buffer, if anything. Not something to be sneezed at but he needed Tien for a cure.

His Gohan. His Goten.

He could see them before his eyes, laughing, teasing one another and bounding off into the mountain to get into whatever mischief it was that boys got into. Had it really been less than a week since they'd been doing that and Goten tried to sneak a baby bird into the house?

And now, they were lying on death's bed...on a threshold that if they crossed over it, not even the dragonballs could reverse it.

"Damn it, Tien! I need you!" Golden light took his hair and his ki all but exploded outward in what could only be described as a scream for help. It was sudden, unexpected and Goku had to admit that he was utterly unprepared for it. He was rarely certain that none of the landscape was going to forgive him for it. But, it was gone as soon as it came.

On his knees, fists ground into the earth in frustration, Goku cursed down his fears, cursed down his what ifs, cursed down the complete and utter fear his boys had cast upon him. Fear that with all his strength, he could do nothing about.

That was an utter failure as far as he was concerned. He was...he should have...he had to..he had to succeed at this. He couldn't afford to fail. Could not. Should not. Would not!

"...Goku?"

The Saiyan froze in mid inhale and turned, desperation painted on his face. It took a moment for his brain to catch up to his mouth but then he was certain he would nearly shout or cry in relief.

"Chiaotzu?"

OOO

"Where's Goku?"

Krillin winced slightly. No matter how often he came around, ChiChi always made him a bit nervous. He couldn't really blame her demanding tone though. If it was Marron lying in that bed, he doubted he would be as well put together as the Son Matriarch was.

Luckily, he didn't need to answer because Videl answered for him, offering the stuffed dragon to ChiChi as a peace gift. "Goku dropped us off out front then ran off to try and find Tien." She held up her phone. "They're trying to find my Papa so he can help."

Piccolo frowned. "I doubt your father can provide us with much aid, Videl," his voice was even keel and as such, Videl felt far less indignation than she might have before all this craziness. She'd seen what these people could do. She could hardly blame them for that dismissal.

"Maybe he can't but he can at least try to help." She responded without just as much sass. She recognized her father's voice around that time and turned her full attention to that. "Papa?"

"Videl, darlin' what is it? I'm getting ready to go for an interview."

"Good. I need your help, Papa. Gohan and his brother are really sick and we're having a hard time finding the man that can help them."

"Videl, I'm a lot of things but I ain't no doctor—"

"Not you, Papa!" Ever since she'd learned the truth about all this ki and martial arts, she had far less tolerance for her father's ego. "Papa, this is important to me! GOHAN'S important to me!"

The silence that reigned in the room perhaps would have been awkward but Videl was not focused on that. She was focused on her father's response. It wasn't that she never yelled at him. She did. But she didn't remember ever being quite so passionate about it.

She could see him though. Gohan hadn't moved since they'd arrived. H hadn't said hello, hadn't opened his eyes, hadn't tried to hide himself in embarrassment. Which, from what she'd learned of him, meant he couldn't.

She could not fathom something strong enough to take him down and yet, here was the proof of it, right in front of her face.

"Please, Papa." She begged again. "Please."

OOO

Krillin took a deep inhale. He'd gone into one of Capsule Corp's bathrooms when he had the moment, leaving Videl and the others in the sick rooms. He needed a moment and with all three parents currently present in protective mode plus an ever attentive Piccolo, it seemed like the best time.

It had been a long time since he shaved his hair but he didn't want to take the risk of breaking tradition. It felt a bit like being back in his element to be honest. You didn't live one way for years and years and not miss it when you changed.

Part of him wished Videl hadn't brought up his past but another part couldn't deny it. It was as much a part of him as being a martial artist. He'd give back once he'd grown and the head monk had insisted on giving him his own robes despite him saying he had chosen a different path. His reasoning had been Krillin had been trained in the ways and he still earned those orange colors. Martial arts, he said, was as much training to be a monk as he would have gained in the temple especially under a teacher such as the Turtle Hermit.

Looking at himself in the mirror, it felt alien. Monk robes...he'd not worn them since his childhood even though his burn scars never faded. Even after being resurrected twice. He didn't quite understand why but maybe that was what this was for. A reasoning for all that.

Inhaling once more, Krillin headed back into the sick rooms, his heart pounding in his chest. How long had it been? He'd been trained in this yes but he'd been away from it longer than Gohan had been alive!

Gohan. Goten. Trunks.

They looked so sickly. So pale. So still. Vegeta and Piccolo kept silent watch, with ChiChi pacing and Bulma down in her lab. Videl had planted herself by Gohan's side, silently stroking his hand and asking him mindless questions.

None of the kids ever moved and Krillin's heart lurched. He could just imagine

Krillin didn't know if he could do anything to help but he had to try something...anything...until they could find Tien.

"Who was sick first?"

He barely recognized his own voice. Calm. Focused. At one with itself and everything around them. As he'd been trained to do.

ChiChi's faint "Trunks, though just by a hair. Can you do anything for them, Krillin?!"

The man turned, eyed her. She looked far less the monstrous matriarch and more the petrified parent. His heart ached for her but he also wouldn't lie to her. "I don't know, ChiChi but I'm gonna try."

Not what anyone wanted to hear but it was all they had to work with. She gave a simple nod. As much as her body wanted to scream that she wanted more than that. That she wanted answers and definites, there was nothing to be gained from that. So, she took her place by Goten.

Krillin turned to Vegeta, asked as calmly as he could "Trunks been in Super Saiyan a while?"

By all accounts, he expected Vegeta to snap at him, to curse at him, to downplay this foolish 'earth custom.' It was his usual mannerisms, that was for sure especially with Bulma busy in her lab and unable to wind him down.

Instead, there was a frightening desperation in his eyes. Krillin almost wished he'd have threatened him.

"For the past few hours."

The monitors certainly backed that up. Increased heart rate, breathing. He was essentially running an unconscious marathon.

Taking a seat next to him, Krillin dipped his fingers into some oils he had brought and began the old familiar tradition of treading the old mantra symbols on the boy's skin before settling his fingers on strong ki channels.

Eyes shut, he began his chanting. Slow, soft and rhythmic. The room faded from his sight. There was nothing but the chanting, the focus, the flow of energy.

Sharp. Harsh. Dark. Cold.

Alien. Not extraterrestrial but not Trunks' energy. Not anyone's energy. Not anyone they knew. It was deep, drowning. All encompassing.

And Krillin pushed against it. He felt it recoil. The spiritual energy he was emitting hurt it. It didn't damage it but it did force the...whatever it was back.

Krillin increased his chanting, set his entire focus and energy on that presence. On that suffocating feeling. It made his very ki crawl. Like...well, as if death itself had become solid and was breathing into his face.

**_Mine_**

Krillin jerked, just a moment. That voice had been distinct and from within. Not outside. It was not a flesh voice. It was spiritual.

**_Mine_**

Krillin narrowed his eyes and pushed all his energy against that voice and he shifted his chanting from healing and building strength to containment. Fast, harsh and so intensely that it nearly took his own breath away. Nothing distracted him and nothing took his mind's eye. The focus of his years combined with the knowledge of his training became as if a wave, as deep and ferocious as the ocean.

But that spiritual invader, that presence that had woven in tentacles so deeply it was like sorting a spider's web fell back. It did not collapse but it lost a great deal of its grip. Sharp, sudden but it fell back and Krillin let reality come for him again.

Trunks gave a deep inhale of breath, his eyes flew open and that golden hair fell back to lavender.


	11. Chapter 11

So dark.

Cold.

Lonely.

Gohan wasn't real sure what to make of it. This had quickly turned from the sleep of illness to something else entirely. It felt...a bit like when you were image training but different all the same. Just an overall sense of being disjointed, disconnected, separate.

He could scarcely move, even here. It wasn't like his usual dreams where even if he was feeling horrific, beaten or weak, he always regained his strength in dreams. Dreams or whatever this dream like state was—relies on ki. Ki could be wearied and weakened but permanently disfigured or broken? No.

Yet here he was, trying to draw on not strength of body but strength of spirit and coming up empty. Like his very essence was beaten and drained.

That voice was hard to make out. He swore he knew it though. The more it chanted and spoke, the less suffocating the environment felt. It was like being introduced to a breath of fresh air after being in a concealed room.

He could move again! Barely. Not very well but he could move. That sickening weakening feeling was still there but it felt more like being stuck in mud than carrying the weight of a building on his back.

That pinprick of light. Towards that. Yes, that was what he needed to do. He didn't know why but he knew it was warm, it was not here...

"Gohan?"

His eyes fluttered open on a female face and it took him a moment to recognize Videl. What was she doing here? When did she get here? What had...

"Hey, buddy."

Turning his head towards another voice, he managed a half smile. "Hey Krillin." Indeed, there was Krillin, bald again and dressed in orange robes that were alien to Gohan. He managed to maneuver a bit and asked "What's with the fancy threads?"

Krillin smirked. "Your girl here reminded me that I'm still trained as a monk. And I can't fix what's going on but maybe I can help some." Turning, he called "Gohan's up too!"

ChiChi predictably ran over and Gohan kept still to let her fuss but he eyed Krillin seriously. "What's going on?"

The monk frowned, deeply. "So whatever's making you sick is a ki attack. And I definitely felt something nasty in all of you." He turned and Gohan could see both Trunks and Goten we're awake again though they hadn't moved from the bed. Vegeta was standing as near to Trunks as he could manage without it becoming blatantly obvious.

Gohan turned back to his mother "Mom, it's okay."

Shaking her head, she argued "It's not. It's not. You and Goten were just...lying there. Like slugs or..." She refused to comment otherwise. "And you still aren't yourselves!"

Her eyes turned to Krillin. "...but thank you for bringing them back." There was so much said in her tone, in her eyes that Krillin almost felt unworthy of it. He had bought them time but not much else beyond that. He didn't think another containment chant would do much. Well, maybe the Mafuba but he didn't know how he might manage that without taking the boys with it. This...thing...whatever it was having intertwined itself so deeply complicated things.

Gohan continued to assess as best he could. It felt odd having Videl there but he had to admit, it didn't feel as weird as he thought it might. It felt...nice actually to have her there even if he had no idea what to say to her.

He could see Piccolo, stoic as ever but not ...

"Where's Dad and Bulma?"

Piccolo snorted. "Your father is still looking for Tien. Bulma is doing some analyzing."

"Of what?"

ChiChi gently placed a finger over his lips. "Don't worry about it. Just rest."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He knew his mother well. That was one of her distraction techniques. Focus on healing, rest, studying or whatever so that you didn't fret.

Gohan had learned that trick years ago.

"Mom. What's going on?"

Videl answered when ChiChi hesitated, "They think those doctors might be doing something sleazy. Something about those meds they wanted to give you. So Bulma's making sure it's what they said it was."

Gohan blinked. On one level, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, scientifically, he and the two boys were almost perfect test subjects. And if it was a ki attack like Krillin said and like they suspected then they could do whatever they wanted and not worry because they'd likely die anyway.

"Where's the doctors then?" He supposed he could have searched for their ki. But to be frank, he didn't know if he could focus long enough.

Vegeta answered. "With my Woman. They won't try anything with her."

Now THAT Gohan fully believed.

OOO

"Sit."

The doctors did so reluctantly. There was not much of a place to go to. Despite how large the lab was, Bulma had all but crowded them into a small side room meant only for two people at most.

Now there were three people and her hunched over the analyzer.

Netsu was nervous; the sweat he was pouring made that all but apparent. Rinri never said a word though it was evident he was debating opening his mouth. The third had barely said a word since Vegeta had made his threat.

Bulma having a gun leveled at their heads killed any other desire to talk.

The analyzer clicked down.

Netsu looked from Rinri and to his other partner. There was deep thought in his eyes. No wonder why. Not just his life but his career, his reputation—his status that he had spent so many decades building—all laid in that small bag of liquid.

Rinri disliked that look of desperation. And he feared it.

OOO

The displacement of air in the room, followed by a "Hey, how're they doin'...hey! They're awake!" was welcomed by all present.

The fact that Goku was not alone but had Chiatzu and Tien by his side was another welcomed fact.

Goku rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry." He gave Tien a side look. "You're REALLY hard to find!"

The martial artist remarked "On purpose, Goku." Then all focus. "Krillin, what did you find?"

The monk stood up "It's something foreign for sure. Contained what I could but as for what it is...nasty is all I could find."

Tien nodded. Looked from Trunks to Goten to Gohan. "I need to see what I can see. I think it's safe to say if I can find it in one, I'll find it in another."

Vegeta remarked, "And what do you plan to do?"

"As deep a delve as I must." Tien, despite having reached an odd...acceptance with Vegeta never truly forgave him so his response was frosty and cold. "Exploring ki to its innermost level, it's deepest portions. If what Krillin says is true—how deep is it embedded?"

Krillin shrugged. "Hard to say."

Gohan trembled. "Deep. It's suffocating. Cold."

Trunks finally spoke though with weariness to him. "Like being lost in space but no stars and it's heavy."

Goten, encouraged, added "Feels like the ocean 'cept you cant move at all."

Tien took all this in. "Deeply ingrained then. I won't lie. This is a rare technique, one we rarely use. I'll be digging into some very personal areas, some deeply kept secrets but if I can't find the root, we can't eliminate it." He looked from boy to boy. "Who is willing?"

Goten scooted back a bit. Much as he had heard stories of this man, he was very much a stranger to him. Shaking his head, the boy said "Uh Uh."

Trunks, while not doing anything physical held the same reluctance. He may have been around the man some but he was far too young to recall it. But he dared not say he was afraid.

Goku's face fell. "Aw, he won't hurt you, kiddo. I promise." Though even he had to admit that what Tien has described sounded...violating.

The two younger boys looked at each other. While they might have faced monsters in battle, the prospect of letting a stranger into their ki—where everything about them was firm and swirled...it was not a pleasant feeling, no matter how ill they currently felt. Trunks wondered if the trade off was fair but he didn't have to ponder long.

"Me, Tien." Gohan broke the awkward silence. "I know you. They don't." He gave his brother what he hoped was a reassuring glance and the boy did relax some though his grip tightened on his stuffed animal. "See what you can find."

Neither Vegeta nor any of the others said a word to protest. The thought of the boys being afraid of Tien or at least cautious though maybe they should have. He'd been such a figure in Goku's life that he neglected to consider it. But ki was personal.

Even when sensing ki, there was so much you got from simply a cursory feel, one reason that it was so useful in battle. That was just a scrape of the surface. What they were proposing...it felt like invasion.

But Gohan knew him. Gohan trusted him.

So when Tien came to his bedside, Videl moved and Gohan settled, eyes closed.

Tien laid his palm to the boy's head and closed his two main eyes, only leaving the middle eye alone open.

And he searched.


	12. Chapter 12

Tien gave a deep inhale as he settled. Engaging on the spiritual realm was always exhausting. Heck, he almost didn't believe it when Goku had said what was happening because he had never considered it to be a possibility. Attacking someone spiritually was not something usually done. Sure, they heard about it but they were always just that…stories. Nothing more, nothing less.

As he took a glance around though, Tien felt that what Krillin had said was true—this was a deep, spiritual invasion. Perhaps with all the craziness they had come to expect from their lives, he should have expected it but this was one thing that he never pondered even being a possibility.

Looking around him, he took wary steps. Much as he meant it when he said that this would be a deep probe, an intrusion, he wanted to do so as little as possible. After all, he, of all people, understood the deep desire and importance of privacy.

Tien frowned, eyes focused. The presence that was haunting the boys was prominent. If that was the case then he should have been able to zone in on it without much difficulty. According to Krillin, it was nearly suffocating and he had no reason to doubt the ex-monk's words.

As he let the imagery around him become clear and less muffled, he felt it. Like the impact that a blast had on the face, only this was deeper and more personal. It was like feeling ants slowly crawl over your skin, slipping into areas that you never thought they would.

Tien frowned deeper and after a moment, he started walking again, just guiding himself with his spiritual eye. He was still at the surface level and judging by the heaviness, identifying the presence would be easy even here…

Yes! It was a twisting thing, just like Krillin had described. It slipped over the floor like it was part of it; in fact, he had to do a double take to make sure that he was not misidentifying it. But nope, there is was. A slick, black thing that moved like a large serpent.

Tien's blow into its back produced a sharp scream and squeal and more than anything else, the martial artist felt something familiar rush through his mind. It wasn't anything precise but more a feeling—a sense of déjà vu like he had been faced with this essence before.

He hardly had time to focus though because the force was enough to throw him onto his back. The ground nearly swallowed him but being as trained as he was, Tien was up and in the air. The swipe of the blackness was hard to follow.

Like mist in a way, it had solid state and yet did not. He passed half through it, as if it were water droplets breaking apart and then midway, they became solid as stone and he found himself hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him.

_Mine_. Came that hissing voice.

A voice that Tien knew and yet could not place.

Dodging the next blow, he took to the air, utilizing the vastness of the mind to grant himself room to move. He was not going to win this head on. Judging by the feel of the thing, it was everywhere. It moved below him, behind him, around him.

But…wait. No. Not just one feeling.

Two, distinctly two.

He felt like he should have been not only able to place the feeling but to know it inside and out. To see and feel and hear and nearly taste it. This was not an alien force, though…yes, yes, it was alien as in outside of the normal but it was not unknown, somehow.

Tien tried to focus but he barely had the time to dodge another attack from above. This one was less slithery and more…well, more like rapid fire attacks from different directions. As if the presence was not entwined everywhere but rather split and divided and in multiple locations.

A hard blow took Tien in the chin and he nearly lost his balance but within a half moment, he was back in the air, his senses spread widely. Ki was what this world was made of but it was easy enough to spot his opponents. Their ki were so different—colder, darker and contrasted violently with Gohan's usual ki.

_Get Out_.

Not the same hissing voice that he had heard before but Tien knew this voice as well as he knew his own. "No…impossible.."

If it had green and purple colors…

No wonder Gohan had such a time resisting him. Probably the one enemy they had fought that would forever carry pain for him. So many years had passed but the kind of trauma that he inflicted did not fade and within the spiritual world, that was what had power.

He had been the 'perfect' opponent after all.

He dodged the latest blow and fell, longer than he should have but…yes, of course, this was Gohan's mind and he was likely feeling this as well as Tien was.

Wait…Gohan might could help him then!

"Gohan!" He called out. "Send me some help!"

Perhaps that was too vague. After all, this was completely new territory and it was hard to tell how deeply embedded these creatures were. They might be blocking Gohan's ability to even sense him here but if there was one thing Tien had learned over the years and the brief period of time that he had felt Gohan's power against Buu, it was that there was little that restrained that boy…

As if on schedule, a faint image, little more than a visage if he was to be honest appeared by Tien's side. But he only needed a faint help right now. Knowing all too well that maintaining a strong presence here was a strain, especially with the body failing, Tien jumped right to business, "Tell me, Gohan, do you feel them like I do?"

The room went cold and dark which was all the confirmation that Tien needed.

"How…" Gohan's question was faint, crackling, like a television broken by static. Tien grasped his hand tightly, forming as much of a bond as he could even as they took to the air again, dodging the next blow that came from below.

"A good question." Tien looked forward, downward and backward. If he could… "Gohan, can you form a ki blast here?"

The boy blinked at him and for a moment, he faded and Tien feared he might have been unable to hold himself here but he shimmered back into appearance after a moment. "Yes…don't know how powerful…"

"Doesn't need to be powerful, just enough to push them together." Tien interrupted. "They're focused on you and I need that right now."

Gohan nodded and Tien was grateful that they had opted to explore this with him. Goten and Trunks did not have the trust in him that Gohan had built over the years. It was needed right now and the fact that Gohan leapt right into action was a relief.

"You keep saying…mine." Gohan wheezed. "I'm not anybody's."

Oh, now the voices laughed. Outright laughed.

But it had the desired effect. The lightning fast attacks in the air that Tien knew the owner of came swift and hard and the slithery presence below moved to join them. Gohan dodged, luring the upper attacks lower while keeping his eyes on the lower.

It was not a solid figure. Neither one of them were but there was…solidness to them. It was impossible to describe. There was a detail to each of them though. One being a serpent like mist and the other being rapid fire, almost bee-like stinging.

Gohan's presence was enough to draw the rapid fire one though. Oh, that presence dove after him as if going after life itself. Gohan positioned himself between the two—the serpent like one at his back and the buzzing bee one at his front.

Tien waited until they were nearly colliding.

"Solar Flare!"

He closed his main eyes and left only his middle open. The spiritual eye was immune to the light. But it gave him what he needed to see. Amid the flash of light, the depth and path of those creatures became very clear.

It seeped downward, forming almost a twisted well like opening. Lunging for it before recovery was possible, Tien shouted at Gohan to 'go' and let himself slip down that dank passage, amid the cursing from the presences above him.

His left hand clutched at the serpent like thing as he went, enclosing a fist in the horrific feeling, nearly feeling that he would pass out from the negative energy as he went. But he forced himself beyond that, forced his attention forward.

Follow the path. Follow the path.

He knew he had little time to dally. Those two things would be trailing him and they knew where he was going whereas he was running blind but..

There. An opening. An opening to…

Tien blinked, rapidly.

"The Afterlife?"

It seemed impossible but no, as he prodded deeper, he felt it, a spiritual opening from the Other World. It was vague and small. The essences that were here now had grown far too large to go back through. It was from a remote opening, probably had been jimmied open somehow, someway.

Openings from the Spirit World were not unheard of but the prospect of it using that opening as a means to introduce a dark essence to attack the spirit. That was a very detailed plan, a very preplanned plan.

Well, it wasn't like Goku or Vegeta lacked enemies, alive or dead.

Tien focused, resettled…

The three eyes flew open in rapid succession and Tien flopped to the ground even as Gohan's body suddenly twisted and a raw scream cut his throat. The boy's hair shifted, turned gold then back to black before that odd energy he had carried into battle with Majin Buu took him.

At the same moment, Goten howled and Trunks groaned as their hair bleached back to gold and they doubled over on their beds, screeching in such raw pain that it nearly caused sympathy pains in everyone there.

"Goten!" ChiChi ran to her youngest's side, gathering him into her arms, even as the rapid heat cut her skin.

"Gohan!" Goku nearly mimicked his wife, jumping over Tien, only to call 'sorry, sorry,' to him as he fought to contain his son. "Gohan, it's okay, it's okay…Krillin, do that weirdo thing you can do."

Only Vegeta didn't move. Though, it was quite evident that Trunks' screaming was cutting him. The Saiyan Prince's eyes were focused on the three eyed man on the floor who was trying to reorient himself.

Walking over, the Saiyan kicked the man's enclosed fist, ignoring the scolding that came from the others in the room.

From Tien's hand, it clattered to the floor and it only had a solid state for a moment. To bring something, even a mirage from something from the spiritual world back to the real world took great skill and even Vegeta had respect for that.

The Saiyan had no thought for that now though. All he could do was stare at what was in front of him. Something he had seen for most of his life.

A very distinguishable F opposite an inverted one. The telltale purple and white shades.

Slamming his foot down on it, teeth clenched, Vegeta's hair shifted to gold himself.

"Freeza…"


	13. Chapter 13

"He's dead."

Vegeta's tone was deep, harsh and honestly, a bit emotional. There was raw rage in that tone. It was unnerving, slightly, to see him pace around, Super Saiyan in full glory even as Chiaotzu and Videl helped Tien to his feet.

"The bastard is dead. Kakarot failed to kill him but my son—" He paused, considered. "A version of my son in any event, succeeded. He's dead. How is HE behind this?" He set his eyes on his son, curled into a fetal position and his hair that blazing golden again. Fear, raw fear in its most primal form seeped out in Trunks' sweat and his father smelt it. Fear and not just any fear but fear in its purest form. "Kakarot! Isn't that bastard stuck in Hell?!"

That bastard. That bastard that he had everything in the world to blame on. That bastard that had turned his entire world into nothing but pain. Much as Vegeta loathed to admit it, he had made a life for himself here and Bulma and Trunks—he did care for them. The fact that Trunks was lying there, aching and suffering and starving and dying caused utmost distress in him that he was NOT accustomed to.

And that bastard was causing it. The thought of him being anywhere near his son, let alone dictating the boy's future in any way or shape, turned his stomach. Vegeta was not used to feelings of protection—quite alien to him—but now that it was rushing through his veins, it was intoxicating and scalding all together. He didn't know whether to curse or crumble so he opted to to fume.

Every time Trunks whimpered or whined or moved—that feeling just grew.

"I dunno." Goku's voice was uneasy, unsure. He didn't move from his spot on the bed next to Gohan and had all but pulled the boy into his lap. "He should be in Hell but he did a lot of bad stuff so I dunno where in Hell he is."

"Not just Freeza." Tien's voice was shaky, strained. Chiaotzu was all but hovering around him but gradually the man made his way to his feet, accepting the hand up from Krillin and Videl. He gathered himself, glanced around the room. "I wish I could say it was JUST Freeza but it's not."

"Who else?" ChiChi's tone was frantic, though controlled. She cradled Goten in her arms, stroking back his hair, which had once more turned that brilliant gold, and if possible, was even more bright and pulsing than before. But while his body shook, writhed and trembled, he did not awaken. "Who's attackin' my boys?"

Gohan jerked in his father's arms, his eyes snapping open, breath coming fast and hard. Eyes back and forth, he rounded the room with his sight, muscles clenched. Under normal circumstances, it could have been misconstrued for anxiety, for being alert and ready for battle. There was likely some of that in there.

But to Goku, who had known the boy for his entire life, he knew fear when he saw it.

"Gohan?" He lowered his voice, softened it. It wasn't a tone he used too often, at least not since Gohan was little. He'd used it once or twice with Goten but because the boys were so different, it was almost never needed. "Little man, what is it?"

"…Cell." The word came out fragile, trembling. "It's Cell."

Goku pulled his son deep into his chest, running his fingers through the boy's sweaty hair. It might have seemed foolish, given that they had survived Majin Buu who was several times beyond what Cell had been. And Gohan had dominated him for quite some time! If anything, Cell should have been a mere workout to him now.

However, one thing Goku had learned in his time back was that while Majin Buu may have had the physical power, it was the battle against Cell that still held his son's heart hostage. Gohan might have held the ability to eliminate Cell in mere minutes now but the psychological hold that Android had was rock solid.

That battle, however long ago it might have been, had left its mark on his son. It was not something Goku had planned on and if he had known, he would have never called his son out, world be damned. He knew he had only himself to blame—it was more the result of the battle than the battle itself. His death was the trigger.

Cell represented the day Gohan lost his father. And much as Goku wanted to, he could not undo that.

Goku gritted his teeth; it was no mere coincidence that Cell was the second opponent. And it filled him with rage over the why. Just like it was no mere coincidence that Freeza had chosen to target their children instead of coming after them. There was no reason for it other than pure sadistic pleasure.

"What?" ChiChi's voice was high and frantic. "Cell too?"

Tien verified. "I'm even more sure of that than I was of it being Freeza. It was two distinct ki signatures. But in the spiritual plane, they have more ability than they do here. Freeza might be focusing on them." He gestured to Goten and Trunks. "But Cell is setting his sights on Gohan." He paused, added, "The one advantage he has to that is that Cell, on some level, is still afraid of Gohan. That's why he didn't pass out." Giving Gohan a soft look, Tien added, "But I am willing to bet that you can't keep that up forever."

It was weird, Gohan decided. When he had helped Tien—and he knew he had—the feeling of it being Cell had been so crystal clear. He might as well have announced his presence with a gong and celebration. Now that he was awake though, not in that odd plane, it felt more muddy, clouded.

But the deep seated fear still flowed through his veins and with each beat of his heart, not only did his body reject but his ki did too. It made so much sense now. As childish as it might have made him look, Gohan wrapped his arms tight around his father.

Goku immediately responded by rubbing his hands through his son's hair and after a moment, he reached down and started to stroke the boy's regrown tail. "It's alright. It's going to be alright. We're going to take care of them. For good this time. Even if I have to go to Hell to do it." Setting his eyes to Tien, the Saiyan remarked, "So, how do we get rid of them? Do we go to Hell? 'Cause I will."

Vegeta stopped his pacing and now he set his attention on Tien. "Well?" He snapped when the man did not immediately answer. "Answer him!"

Taking a moment longer to gather his breath even as Krillin went over to ChiChi to see if he could offer any aid to her youngest and Trunks, Tien remarked, "It may not matter. Because their spiritual presence here is what we need to deal with. It's not an easy thing—what they're doing. You can't just pop in and out of the Afterlife like that and to do it on a Spiritual Plane is even harder. How they're even opening a Gateway I can't be sure. I know there IS one because I felt it. But that's beyond what they should have the ability to do."

"Doesn't seem to be stoppin' them," ChiChi remarked even as she continued to stroke Goten's hair back, whispering to him that it would be alright and that Uncle Krillin was going to help and that they were going to take care of the bad men making him feel so awful. Goten never opened his eyes.

Vegeta snorted, staying focused on Tien. At least they were finally getting some answers. But not fast enough, just show him what he needed to kill. "But there is a gateway. So where is it?"

Goku spoke up, "Yeah, tell us how to find it and close it! Would that stop whatever they're doing to my kids?"

Tien considered. "As long as no presence of them remained here, yes." He paused, added, "Think of it this way—there is going to be a spiritual essence of them by this gateway that is dictating their actions here. That is what we have to eliminate."

Vegeta cut in again, positioning himself as near to his son as he could without looking obvious that this was what he was doing. What could he do right now for him? It was not his nature to be useless. Yet, here he was while being so close. Not enough. What to do? What did they need to do?

His ears were tuned in onto the boy's labored breathing and he could smell the exhaustion. No good. They had little time. "How are they doing this? If the Gateway is not here, then how are they able to spread their influence this far and be this…intense?"

The three eyed man spoke softly, calmly. "Spiritual energy works differently. If the boys were exposed to the Gateway, all they would need is one singular speck of energy to make them easy to link to." He considered. "It's like…well, I suppose you could say it's like the signals used in your old scouters. As long as there is a source and a means of finding an individual, it can spread indefinitely."

Goku frowned, "So…we hafta find the Gateway source, push them back through and close it?"

It was decidedly more complicated than that but- "In simplistic terms, yes."

Snapping, Vegeta stated, "So, they are just working this…this…" he gestured to the boys curled up on their sides, "from some distant place? Where?"

"That's the hard part." The man considered, "There are only certain places on earth that would even allow an opening. Places where there is a lot of spiritual energy. Graveyards. Places of trainings—"

"Temples."

The voice interrupted him and it felt cold and frightened.

Goku looked down to Gohan laid against his side. "Gohan?"

"Temples. Like the run-down one that is deep in the mountains."

ChiChi sat up. "Oh, don't tell me that you and the boys went THERE, Gohan! I thought you were smarter than that! Why would you go there?" They'd known about the temple—the mountains had several old temples scattered about...the earth was old after all…but their children had always been so respectful that she and Goku never felt that they needed to reinforce that idea that entering them was bad.

It shocked her to be frank.

"We heard something." The boy insisted, his tail twitching in agitation. "I mean, yeah, we were curious but we heard something. All of us. And it sounded like someone in trouble." He frowned. "We didn't even go in that far…but I had to see. What if it was someone hurt?!"

"Wouldn't need to go in very far," Tien remarked, effectively ignoring Gohan's explanation. "The aura of the place itself would be enough. This isn't like a tunnel that you're thinking of. It's more like a pool or even wind. If you were close enough to get a whiff of it, that was close enough."

Head down, Gohan remarked, "I should have called the boys back but I didn't think about it and I wanted to see if someone was trapped or…or…"

Goku gently placed a finger over his son's lips. "Hey, hey, hey, stop it. Don't freak out on me. That's that last thing you need right now—"

"But I should have known better. I should have kept a better eye on them. I should have—"

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda." Goku said simply. "Besides, you can't ever turn away anyone you think is in trouble." He gave a knowing smile and wink to Videl. "Can't even make it to your first day of school without breakin' up a robbery."

Tien stood, "It was likely bait anyway. The range of this gateway might be wide but they would still need to lure someone in. I'd say if you went and looked at other places all over the world, you'd see similar lures. Unless Cell was smart enough to target places near your home, Goku—"

"Does it even matter?!" Vegeta snapped suddenly. "I'll lay blame on who I need to later—including the brat for his own stupidity—but this isn't the time for that! We know the temple, so what do we do?"

Oddly enough, that was what everyone needed to hear. Goku was suddenly all business, eyes narrowed and he turned to his son. "Vegeta's right. We don't need to worry about the why right now. It's done. Now we just deal with it." He rested his forehead on Gohan's again, wincing to himself at the heat. "You stay here. Daddy's gonna go handle this."

"Dad, I—"

"Not right now, Gohan. You need to rest. You've been a big help but the best thing you can do to help me now is to rest. You tol' me that you feel like you shoulda called the boys back. You can't fix that but you can show 'em that restin' is what they need to do."

"They're unconscious…"

"Son Gohan."

Full name. "Message received." He lowered his head and unless you were looking for it, you would have missed the soft half kiss that Goku gave to his son's temple. The boy laid back down and settled, protests silenced for the moment.

"Good." Goku withdrew from his son, though reluctantly and eyed his wife. "ChiChi, are you gonna be okay here?"

She folded her arms. "Son Goku, you just go take care of these monsters attackin' our boys! If those doctors try anything, I'd say Bulma and I can handle it." She set a look to Videl who had been staying out of the conversation—by means of being polite—but was nonetheless determined. "And I have a feeling Videl will give us any jolt we might need."

Goku nodded, setting his eyes on Goten for a moment. Golden haired, face red and while he was still now, the weakness all but poured off him. Gohan reeked of guilt, exhaustion and weariness. "Okay…Tien, you'll come with us? To help us reach that spiritual…place we needa go to?"

The man nodded and after a moment, he said, "Krillin, you should come with us too."

"Me?!" Krillin asked. "But…what about the boys?"

"You've given them what you can." The man argued. "A delay. You know as well as I do that we have to kill the source." Tien added, eyes warm. "And if the temple itself is going to lend us any aid in what we need to do, the spiritual energies will respond best to a monk."

"Ex-monk." Krillin corrected though he stood, paused to run his hand over Trunks' head a moment then after a look at each of the boys, he approached. "Not sure what good I can do."

Tien shook his head, "More than you think. If you were just ex-Monk, you wouldn't have been able to do what you did here."

Vegeta grabbed Krillin's arm. "If the three eyed man says you need to come, you come!"

Krillin jerked his arm free even as Tien gritted his teeth. Oh, the temptation to remind Vegeta that he didn't HAVE to help them…

Except he did. As long as the children (and yes, even Gohan was a child to him and always would be) were at risk, he was bound and could not just leave them. He looked to Chiaotzu and said, firmly, "Help them however you can, Chiaotzu."

The small man nodded, "Be careful, Tien."

With only a nod, Tien looked to Goku, "Know where this temple is?"

"Sure do." Goku put two fingers to his forehead and held his hand out. Tien clasped onto it, Krillin as well and even Vegeta did not hesitate.

They were gone in a displacement of air.

Gohan inhaled deeply, fell backward and went silent, unconsciousness sweeping over his body. Goten whined in pain, drawing into a deep ball and Trunks gave a shout of fear, nearly taking out the machines to his left.

It was as if they knew.

ChiChi looked to Videl, "Now the fightin' really starts."


End file.
